


Looking for trouble

by OctaviaPenrose



Series: The Bower Series [2]
Category: Jamie Campbell Bower - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, LA, London, Love, M/M, Romance, Sex, Smut, the darling buds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctaviaPenrose/pseuds/OctaviaPenrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book 2 in the Bower series. Sequal to 'Get your guns'.</p><p>Hollywood is not for the faint hearted. It is not for the weak and the naive. Skye Delaney learns that the hard way. Ghost of the past will reappear and new wonders will be found in the land of fame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

I am weeping like a baby. Let’s just say ‘the fault in our stars’ is one emotional movie. I pick up my phone dialling almost blindly, the tears clocking my eyes. She picks up after a couple of rings.  
“Hey J, what’s up?” she chirps happily and I clear my throat.   
“Yo, Skye,” my voice is guttural from crying, ”can you come look after me?”  
“What’s happened, J?” she asks worry in her voice.   
“The Fault in our stars is what happened; I’m balling my eyes out! Those two were meant for each other, Skye!” my voice is turning slightly hysterical,” and then he just died! Like what the flying unicorns is that about?!” I hear a small splutter of what sounds like a choked laugh escaping her,   
“It’s not funny, Skye…” I sob.  
“No of course it’s not,” she says though I could hear the bloody smile on her face, “I’ll be there in ten, I just got out of spinning class,” She informs me, talking to me like I am some sort of child. I don’t care; right now I am emotionally unstable. I am clutching my teddy bear Roofie tightly in my one hand, phone in the other.  
“Bring Reese’s and cupcakes, please..?” I ask in a small voice. They are hands down my favourite sweets.  
“Sure, J, anything else while we’re at it?” she asks sounding distracted.   
“No, just hurry please,” I say, I don’t want to be alone… Like Hazel... Gosh the whole story made me want to ball my eyes out!   
“I will, is Jorge there yet?” she asks, I could hear the car drive by her on the street and the chatter of people through the phone.   
“Yes he is here to shoot some scenes with Robert,” I reply as I take a sip of the water bottle in front of me. I had seen on the schedule on my door that Robert and Jorge would be shooting, then it was Isabelle and Alec, we had already shot the first couple scenes in the pandemonium. I on the other hand had mistaken today for tomorrow and had by mistake dragged my sorry arse to set, only to get told to bugger home. So I had huddled myself in my trailer to watch ‘the fault in our stars’.. Again.. It got me every time.   
“Perfect,” she says, “I’ll be there soon, I need to drop off something for Evelyn, she forgot her phone at the apartment.”   
“she must be having a frenzy,” I joke, “Poor Eve,” Eve or Evelyn is the hot chick playing Izzy, the only ones who is from the original cast is myself, Rhys(aka Valentine), Godfray(aka Magnus – sparkle arse - Bane), Aidan (aka Luke) and Sheehan ( aka Simon Lewis). Everybody else was a recast. I am pretty proud that I got the role again honoured, but never the less proud.   
Evelyn is the hot girl every guy spends high school dreaming about, all long legs and shiny jet black hair. She is hugely phone addicted and like me from England, like most of the cast is this time around. We’re British because we’re supposed to come from a place called Idris, which is stationed in the middle of Europe. The producers saw it therefore more realistic to have the cast be a bunch of brits, even the cast of Clary for some unknown reason, though she was asked to tone it down a good deal, being from Brooklyn and all.   
“See you in a bit, J” Skye says in a laughing voice, before she hung up. Leaving me hanging on the line. We had been in LA for about 3 weeks now and we are about one week into shooting. They have started off small, giving us time to get healthy or for my part bulk up. It had been going pretty decently, I was already bigger than I was before, more muscle. I like the change though I sometime don’t recognize myself in the mirror. The change happened fast this time around.   
I am also quite happy at the moment, because I think I’m kind of with Skye… neither of us had actually officially asked, but we just act like we’re a thing… So I guess we are.. Right? I sit on the sofa watching extra material on the tfios DVD till Skye opens the door to my trailer and storms in, throwing Reese’s and cupcakes in my face, it’s the ones from the good place by the beach. She walks in shutting the door behind her. I put the sweets on the coffee table in front of me. For now they could wait.   
“Hey Reap” I say giving her the elevator look. She is wearing a loose flowered sundress with small straps over her shoulders, showing of her pale skin, on her feet she wears brown gladiator sandals and a sunhat was placed on top of her curly hair, seeing as she is in fact a pure redhead and the sun doesn’t like her very much.   
“Hey J” she smiles, placing her yellow handbag on a table by the door. We all had our own trailer but Skye spent most of her time in mine, apart from when she was getting ready for a shoot. The trailers all came from the same blueprint repeated over and over again. A sofa, a sofa table, a telly, a makeup table, a tiny kitchen containing practically only a microwave and at last a tiny bath and shower.   
“You okay?” she says as she sits down next to me, then swinging her legs over mine and resting her head on my shoulder snaking her free arm around my torso. She skin feels hot to the touch as I snake an arm around her shoulders, holding her close.   
“Now I am, “ I mumble against the top of her head, she smells like sun, flowers and saltwater now, back in England she had smelled like rain, cinnamon and grey clouds if someone can even smell like that.   
“As Cheesy as always I see” Skye’s says lifting her head to plant a kiss on my lips, she stayed there a little longer than I had expected.   
“You know me,” I just answer, I had gotten a habit of being excruciatingly cheesy and romantic around her, just blurting out all kinds of cliché lines. Sometimes I didn’t even see them coming before they just poured out my mouth, like word vomit. It was turning into quite a problem.  
“Come here” I say picking up my phone and turning on the front camera, “let’s tweet.” She giggles at me, she still hadn’t gotten twitter for some reason, she was set on only having Instagram and Facebook, though both was filling up with girl asking to follow or to be friends. She was currently neglecting everything electronic while shooting; she said it kept her focused. I hold my phone out in front of us, then I turn my head planting a kiss on her cheek as she blushes, she always did. Then I picked the photo for a tweet and wrote as a caption: this one saves my day #tfiosfeels  
Then I placed my phone on the table while it exploded with replies.   
“Why do you do it?” Skye asks, picking up my phone and scrolling through the tweets, her brows furred together a she got a confused look on her face.   
“I don’t know, makes them happy and me too, fans can be a real pick me up sometimes,” I reply  
“Look at this,” she says seemingly ignoring what I just said. She shows me the screen; it’s a tweet from Lily Collins.   
Looking forward to meet you guys sometime   
There is a smiley face at the end, so at least she didn’t sound mad. After all Skye had kind of gotten her role. Under Lily’s tweet is Patrick’s,   
You guys disgust me #gags  
It wasn’t like walking in on him and Jorge was all that pleasant… then two days later him and some girl… and an hour later him and some random guy... I’ve seen things… things I can never un-see.   
“Does she want to meet up or something?” Skye asks, placing the phone on the table again.  
“Seems so,” I mutter.   
“Do you think she’s mad at me?” she asks a little pout on her face.   
“No, why should she be? She never even auditioned for the role,” I try to assure her.   
“I don’t hold a candle to her,” She says looking at her knees.   
“That’s not true, Skye,” I say wrapping my arms around her shoulders, tugging her to my chest and kissing her cheek.   
“You don’t know that, J” she says a sad smile on her face.  
“Actually Skye, I kind of I do,” I tell her and she looks at me funnily, “I’ve acted with both of you, you know.”  
“Lily is an amazing actress,” she then says,” and I am not trying to compete with her, but I can’t help but feel I’ve kind of stolen her job?” and I simultaneously add in my mind if not to mention her ex-boyfriend…  
“How can you steal a job she never even applied for Reap?” I say, using my nickname for her to try and calm her nerves, it really seems to bother her.   
“III don’t know!” She exhales, looking blindly into the air.  
“Don’t worry about it, Reap” I comfort her, kissing her cheek again, before turning her face and kissing her lips. We sat there kissing each other for and while and I feel like my heart is going to swell up and explode in my chest. It had taken Skye a good while to forgive me for Mathilda but eventually she did. Or I think she did, it probably helps that we’re in LA and she’s back in England.  
“Now kids,” Someone says, “that not how it’s done.” I’m too involved in what I am – correction – we are doing, to remember the voice.  
“Go away, Patrick,” Skye groans against my lips.  
“No, thank you, I’m quite good where I am,” He says and I avert my eyes to look at him, he is leaning casually against the doorframe watching us with a smug smile on his face.   
“It wasn’t really request,” She – more or less - growls turning her face to look at Patrick, she is sitting with her back to the door. I spot a hickey on her neck as she turns her head – when did that happen?   
“I know,” Patrick simply says in a nonchalant voice. He was smiling mockingly at us, like we were one grand amusement. Skye sighs heavily and swing her legs down from the sofa and I tug myself up a bit, to sit more comfortably.   
“Is it your life’s purpose to cockblock me?” I say sounding a little more irritable then I first anticipated.   
“Oh it is working! Good to know,” Patrick reply sounding like he just asked a professor what string theory was.  
“You’re an arse,” Skye says her voice drooling with a mixture of exhaustion and irritation. She rubs her temples, in a slow motion.  
“Born and raised,” Patrick mutters in an southern drawl, as if he’s a real cowboy; ”anyway, Bower some chick is looking for you.” He says this is his normal straight British accent.   
“What chick?” I ask.  
“Short brown hair, about Skye’s height, button nose, intense eyebrows? Ring any bells?” yes, yes it did… Lily darn Collins. She just tweeted, she must have recognized (somehow) our surroundings, having she herself been in a trailer just like this one.  
“Yeah… it does…” I mumble.  
“Well you better get going then! She is kind of hot you know, maybe you should throw this old rag” he point to Skye, grinning all over, “out the window, and get the hotties out there?” Patrick suggests helpfully.  
“Already been there mate,” I say getting up, “I’ll go say hi to her, you can come if you want Skye?” I offer, I could feel Patrick looking at me in disbelieve.   
“No, I need to go, I have a lunch date with someone actually,” she says sounding very casual, standing up and going to her yellow purse. A lunch date? What? Was she dating?  
“You have a, what now?” I ask confused.  
“That came out wrong, it’s with Godfray, he is taking me to his favourite restaurant,” she explains.  
“You know it’s probably sushi right?” I remind her, “he is Chinese after all,” I can still remember her resentment when I tried to get her into a sushi restaurant, it hadn’t ended very well, at least not to begin with. Her brows furrowed together, like she just remembered Godfray’s heritage.   
“Oh god I forget that part… I have to go..” she says before she picks up her purse and run out the door, “See you guys later!” she shout over her shoulder as she goes out into the burning sun. Patrick moves aside to let her past.   
“So can I call dips on the hottie out there?” Patrick asks.  
“Sure, just let me go say hi and she is all yours,” I reply as I walk through the trailer and out into the burning sun. I knew that Lily would probably show up one day, I just hadn’t thought it would be this soon. We had barely started shooting, some of the sets were still all over the place, but of course here she was. She was standing by a water fountain, talking with Rhys, her back to me. She had cut off her hair and had gone back to her normal brown colour. Hearing me coming she turns around, there is a wide smile on her face which scrunches up her nose. She is exactly as pretty as I remember her.   
“So there is the star,” she says.


	2. Secret confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

There are about 4 things you need to know.   
1\. I am confused.   
2\. Jamie is confusing.  
3\. He hasn’t yet asked me to be – well – his.  
4\. I’m ranting about this to Godfray.  
“And you are sure he hasn’t asked you?” Godfray asks, slicing up the steak in front of him, apparently the Chinese heritage didn’t matter to him; he is a barbeque enthusiast it seems. We are sitting in a steakhouse in the middle of the city. The house is full of dark woods and pictures of barn animals.   
“Positive, you see.. it’s not like he doesn’t show that he cares… he just, doesn’t seem to..” I lose my train of thought for and second and then ask, ”is it wrong for me to want him to ask me?”  
“Naa…” Godfray srugs, “I just have a feeling he already thinks that you are together, but he forgot to tell you that,” Godfray finish, stuffing his face with beef. Godfray Gao is one tall Asian man; even for a man in general he is tall. He is a whole of 6’4 feet; someone must have forgotten to tell him he is Asian. He is the guy playing the part of Magnus Bane in the show, like he did the last time.   
“Well maybe...” I go quite and we sit and eat in silence. I haven’t told anyone this, not even Brad and Jane, but since the day at the beach I have not said ‘I lo-- you’ to him, the thing is I have actually never told him, ever, I am scared to. He told me at the beach in England and we kissed and thing was good, but now? Sometimes when we were together, I could tell (occasionally you can just tell those things) he was wondering whether I lo--. him, as he believed he loved me. But saying I love someone just isn’t in my repertoire. I can’t even tell my own mom I love her, how the bloody hell am I supposed to tell Jamie? I don’t even know if I actually do lo—(come on Skye! Think it god damn it!) him! Sometimes I barely feel like I know him! I have known him for 3 months or so, tops! I have known Jane and Brad for years and I am not even sure I love them… I sure care a lot for them! I really do! Maybe that feeling is love, but the truth is… I have no idea what love is.   
“Skye?” Godfray asks after a while.   
“Mmm,” I murmur still in not present at the table, mentally that is.  
“Why do you have a hickey? You know the make-up artists are going to go ballistic right?”  
“It was a stupid dare… “ I breath, flashes from a couple nights ago enters my head, flashing neon lights and bouncing techno music. I had gone to Jorge party, something about his dog turning 3, though I wasn’t sure he actually had a dog, “Jorge dared me to get a hickey in a stupid game of truth or dare.”  
“Who gave it to you?” Godfray asks, as his eyebrows rose in confusion.   
“Jamie of course, he was pretty out of it when he did it, so I seriously doubt he even remembers,” I say and stuff my face with potatoes.  
“You guys are so kinky…” Godfray comments while snickering at me.   
I swallow my potatoes, “Oh, should just know my darling...” I say in a posh manner, implying all sorts of nasty deeds. Godfray reply with some sort of gaging sound. And he is right to do so; because some of the things Jamie and I found ourselves doing isn’t all that ehm… decent to say the least. There had been very few things he said ‘no’ to till now. The things is, when we were together like that, all were rainbows and unicorns and I have several times been on the edge of telling him, that I thought I lo... lo..– You get it right? But it has purely in the high of the moment, but every time it has locked itself in my throat, it just has… and Jamie every time mumbles “I love you”, “I love you”, “I love you” in my ear as he comes down from his high and I just kisses him to shut him up. Am I the worst person alive? I have this amazingly talented crazily sweet guy who – according to himself – loves me and I should love him back, but I don’t think I’ll even be able to recognise the feeling, even if it fills my whole entire body. Maybe I already feel it! And I just don’t know it! I am seriously fucked up, now aren’t I? I am 100 percent aware that about 520.287 thousand people (the amount of people that follow him on twitter, yeah… I checked) will happily replace me and tell Jamie what I should be telling him over and over again. I know I’m an arse…  
“Where are you?”   
“What?” I squeak as I am ripped out of my train of thought.  
“Where were you?” Godfray kindly repeats.   
“Nowhere,” I reply promptly. A little to promptly, the kind of promptly which imply lying.   
“It didn’t look like nowhere, you haven’t touched your food for a whole,” he looks at his watch, “4 minutes,” he concludes and I know 4 minutes doesn’t seem like a lot but in food time it was about one year.   
“Yeah, there just some stuff the boggles my mind, that’s all,” I tell him.  
“Care to share?” Godfray recites as if he is some variety of school consoler.   
“It’s nothing really, better if I figure it out myself anyways” I say and I mean it. As much as I would love to rant about how I feel, about how confusing it is to not tell Jamie, this amazing guy that I do in fact... Yeah here we go again... Chocking on that stupid word. Again.   
“You sure?” he asks concern in his eyes. Godfray is a kind man, who loves his job and is always willing to help out. He has kind of become my Brad and Jane replacement. But he seems to enjoy my company just as much as I enjoy his, at least he haven’t run away screaming just yet.   
“You bet,” I give him a little reassuring smile, and then we move on, talking about his family back in Taiwan, and more importantly how his kitten is doing. He rescued a little white cat a while back and have nurtured it ever since. He calls him Kittysolo and it’s an adorable little fellow. We finish up our stakes, get the tip and leave the restaurant in a hurry. We want to hit the beach, before we have to return to the apartment, something about Evelyn having a surprise for us.  
There are a lot of people, young ones mostly, with perfect golden bodies running around on the beach. I can’t even tell them apart even if I want to. The sun is burning down on our skin, threatening to burn - at least me - to a crispy redheaded chicken. We have taken off our shoes and are walking with them in our hand, to feel the soft white sand under out soles. A soft warm breeze is blowing my hair back and sometimes trying to wisp away my hat.   
“Have you have considered moving here full time?” Godfray asks turning his face to the sun.   
“Yeah, but I would miss Brad and Jane too much,” I reply, I love this place, the sun, the everlasting heat, the extreme range of coffees at star bucks. It is all dreamily.   
“Still not speaking to that mother of yours?” he questions, I told him about her about one week ago and he said something along the lines of, ‘sooo you’re basically what Dudley would be if magic had not existed in his life and he had learned common-sense?’ and I just hit him on the shoulder for some reason and laughed at him. I am no Dudley, besides Dudley has a dad. I’m not soo… unlucky, lucky? I will probably never know.  
“No, she is not exactly the person who ties me to England,” I reply. We pass a group teenage girls huddled together on a blanket, as one of them turns I see the distinctive mark of the angelic rune inked on the inside of her left wrist. A shadowhunter, who would have thought. Godfray and I quickly hurry along, passing by the girls too quickly for them to notice that Magnus Bane himself just passed by their small huddle. As I avert my eyes to the sand in front of me something – or more like someone - crash into me. A hard white chest lands on top of me bolting me to the sand. I hear a grunt and someone exhale. We – or he - somehow managed to land flat to my chest; my body ache a bit, but it was a soft landing, the only thing hurting was my temper. I slam the flat of my palm against the guys shoulder, making him get of me. But before I start cursing his arse of he beat me to it, okay he didn’t curse at me actually.  
“Bloody hell” he says in a distinctive English accent, “I am so sorry about that, my buddies over there got a bit rough and tumble,” he finishes as he get up, pulling me with him, when we stand he points to mentioned ‘buddies’ playing volleyball a yard away or so. The man who knocked me over has the kind of voice that just reeked higher education. He is one piece of sexy British schoolboy, like the kind that went to Eton and still acted like a gentleman while secretly thinking he was better than everybody else. Okay I added the last characteristic on to his character; I really have no idea if he’s like that. He isn’t wearing a shirt (which is to his advantage, because he is pretty good-looking) and as bottoms he is wearing loose swim tracks. He is kind of really hot. He’s body is tall and lean, though he still seemed to have some weight to him.   
“They weren’t the ones knocking me over, thank you very much,” I reply grumpily, sending him the death glare. He is indeed a handsome man, all high cheekbones, and sharp jawline. His hair is dark brown, and cut short in the sides, but he is crowned with these messy curls that more or less went all over the place, even though they didn’t seem that long. A pair of thin lips stretch themselves into a wide smile and a couple of light blue eyes stares at me in surprise. Somehow he seems familiar to me but I just cannot place him.   
“I’m sorry,” he says still grinning, “I hope the misses didn’t get hurt.” I just glare at him like he is some sort of moron. I do not utter a word, I simply wait for him to scatter off. Which he refuses to do for some reason.  
“What’s your name?” he suddenly asks.   
“What?”  
“What’s your name?” he repeats taking a step closer to me. He’s tall, not as tall as Godfray, but he is taller than Jamie.   
“Why?” I ask in confusion, still angry that he knocked me to my arse.   
“My name is Tom,” he just says, ignoring my question. He reaches out his hand. I just stared at it, “it’s now you tell me your name.” He says helpfully and I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. Like hell I was going to great that arsehat.   
“It’s Skye,” I say still apprehensive about the guy. He lowers his hands, a shy smile on his lips now. I want to know the sly smile of his face for some unknown reason.   
“Nice to meet you, Skye,” he says in a gentleman voice, then he turns to Godfray and doing a small nod in his direction, “and you too?” he says waiting for Godfray to give him his name.   
“Godfray,” he croaks in this weird high pitched voice.   
“Good to meet you Godfray,” this ‘Tom’ says, Godfray doesn’t answer, he just sort of smiles at him, making his eyes appear as small, almost none existent slits.   
“Well, we have business to attend” I say (business to attend, what kind of line is that anyway?!) as I give Tom a small nod and start to walk away with Godfray following me. I didn’t know why but he has been silent most of the conversation, as if he was in court and he could only speak if spoken to. As we walk away Godfray leans down and whispers in my ear, “Do you even know who that guy was?” he asks in a low voice.   
“No, should I?” I asks wondering if Godfray is about to tell me why the guy seemed familiar.  
“Yeah, that was Tom Hiddleston!” he says sounding very much like a starstruck teenage girl.   
“Who?” I quack. I call myself an actress and yet every time someone mentions a movie or an actor I have no idea who they are!   
“Tom Hiddleston! He played Loki in the Avengers!” Godfray pipes still sounding very excited.  
“OH! That’s why he seemed familiar!” I exclaim suddenly realising, like I am effing hit by lightning I see this Tom person grinning like a maniac on some flying motorbike thing. With aliens flying around him, it was some shot from the avenger’s movie my mind had stored away for safekeeping. “He is really hot!” I let out almost unwillingly, but I have to admit he is.   
“Skye?” Godfray asks in a gloomy voice.   
“Yeah?”  
Haven’t you forgotten someone?” he questions, obviously wanting me to answer something specific. I just have no idea what! I haven’t forgotten anyone!  
“No..?”   
“Jamie?” he says giving me the ‘isn’t in obvious?’ hand sign.   
“Yeah what about him?” I asks still not knowing what he is getting at.  
“You just said that guy was hot! What about Jamie?!” Godfrey exclaims as if I did something terribly wrong like cheat verbally on Jamie, if that was even a thing.   
“What?! It is not like Jamie isn’t allowed to say other women are sexy or beautiful! If he didn’t at least think so there would be something terribly wrong with him,” I rant, if I wasn’t allowed to look at other beautiful examples of male specimen, but Jamie... then I would be kind of pissed off… after all it wasn’t like guys stopped watching porn just because they had a girlfriend! And they should not need to stop if they enjoyed it! But that is off the point…  
“Sometimes I wonder where you get it…” Godfray says quizzically.  
“Get what?”  
“That thing that makes you so… you,” he says again not making much sense. I look at him my eyebrows raised and my eyes beaming with confusing. And then Godfray suddenly falters, waving his hand in the air, “it’s nothing.” Then he looks back over his should and makes this fun huffing sound.   
“Anyways, Jamie should watch out, that Tom fellow can’t seem to take his eyes off of you,” Godfray says into my ear and I by instinct turn back to peer over my shoulder. I find myself locking eyes with Tom and he sends me this crazily handsome smile. A smile that is way more attractive then it is supposed to be. And I catch myself smiling back at him.


	3. the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

“So there is the star,” she says and I shrug of her comment, making the sound one makes when ones blow their nose. She smiles up at me, the wide cheeky smile I remember so vividly from our blessed time together, but it all goes south from there. I suddenly recall everything bad that had ever happened between us, the lying, the cheating and all the bull shit. Lily is a fair tolerant person, the problem with that being she always did what was expected of her. Always. Or at least she made it seem so to the outside world, she made it seem as if we had been one happy lovedovey couple. And we were, for about 3 months till Zac Effron strolled his way into the picture frame again. He was Lily’s ex and for what I could tell she had never really gotten over him. Then again who get’s over Zac Effron?  
“No really, you don’t have to be so modest all the time,” she says and punches my shoulder lightly. She was wearing high waisted light shorts and one of those small shirts that only nearly covered her chest with some inspirational slogan written on it. Her hair was short straight framing her face, “So how is shooting coming?” She asks, trying to make small talk. I don’t feel like talking to her. Most of all I feel sick. Which I shouldn’t, so I shan’t. I try to decide. She was the first girl to go around my back and cheat on me while we were still a thing, and from there it had just kept going. I had gone from one cheating girlfriend to the other. From Lily to Mathilda. The worst part about the whole thing was that I remember thinking: ‘I might love this woman’, both with Lily and Mathilda right before they said, ‘we’re over, I’m seeing somebody else’, ‘it’s not you it’s me’, ‘we just weren’t meant for each other that’s all, ‘we gave it a try and we had a great run, but I just don’t think this is for me’, “Jamie?” ‘his name is... (I always bleep out their name in my mind in fear of what I might do) and we have been going out for a while,’ “Jamie?”, ‘we’re just too different you know?’, ‘we’re too young to be where we’re headed, it’s all moving too quickly’ “Jamie?!” ‘maybe one day in the far of future it might work but not now,’ ‘you still have millions of supermodels to shack don’t you?’, ‘I would only tie you down.’ “JAMIE!!!” I am ripped out of my head, somebody is screaming into my face.   
“Sorry what were you saying?” I mumble my head still somewhat in the past. The sun is burning down on my head and neck, making me sweat. I have a baby blue V cut tee shirt on and a pair of loose trousers that went to about mid calf. But right now I would rather me wearing nothing, it is too hot out here.   
“I was just asking you, how shooting is going and such, till you drifted off,” Lily explains. I can tell but the look on her face that she is slightly annoyed, she always hated in when I drifted off. Especially, when she was the one speaking.   
“Ohw aahh...” I say, “fine I guess we have only shot a couple of scenes-“ she cut me off, abruptly.   
“So how is the new Clary? I hope you don’t miss me too much,” she says smiling, I can hear she is being ironic, that she doesn’t mean anything evil or condescending regarding Skye but I feel like I have to stand up for my new co star anyhow.   
“She is brilliant, she really puts a new spin on the whole thing, plus Lily, you have to admit,” I hold a pause, just for the effect, “she beats your hair colour tenfold.” I joke, my face stretched in a grotesque version of delight. As we probably all remember Lily had died her hair fake red for the movie,(or the director had decided on the colour but whatever) and I have never till this day seen a girl born with hair like Lily’s. It was a pretty colour, do not get me wrong, but real red hair beat it every day. Lily laughed at me, trying to brush of my backhanded bitch slap as nothing, but I knew I had hit her – I’m not one to hold grudges, but--- okay yeah I am one to hold grudges! She cheated on me and then ran off with him, and it didn’t exactly sit well with me.   
“ahaha, well I hope her real red hair draws viewers to the screen then,” she says and I swear to god I heard something deadly and poisonous in her voice. Like a cobra or malarial mosquitoes you never see coming.   
“I hope so too,” I smile at her. We just stand there, having a stare off. Rhys and Patrick obviously feel the tension between us and for once stay quiet, but I know it’s only a matter of time before Patrick starts to drop bad jokes and Rhys does something really cool with that ninja body of his.   
“Well,” Lily breathes out, “nice to see you again Jamie,” she smiles at me again and I want to rip the stupid grin of her face. “You too Lily” I respond, trying to be friendly. She ignores my presences completely “and you too Rhys,” she chirps and turns to hug Rhys, he hugs her back a confused look plastered on his face. Rhys is not one to get in the middle of relationship feuds, so evidently he looks very uncomfortable. She lets go of him and t starts to walk away slowly, “all the luck to you,” she grins back over her shoulder, smiling and waving at Patrick, “I hope you’ll do a great job as Alec,” she could obviously tell who played who just by looking at them. Dark hair, trained body and blue eyes, got to be Alec that one. No one like him.   
“Lily,” I shout making her turn at the sound of my voice, “was it worth it?” I ask, she knows what I am talking about. She knows what I’m asking. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is hanging slightly open as she continues to walk backwards and away from us. She stares blackly into my eyes, and I can’t tell whether she is angry, upset or actually feels sorry from her actions.   
“What is he talking about Rhys?” I hear Patrick ask Rhys, but I don’t hear him answer. Lily says nothing, she just keeps staring at me bluntly.   
“Nice to see you J,” she chirps her stunned expression suddenly gone from her face, replaced with a look of forced happiness. I can tell by how the lines around her mouth are a little too straight and a little too perfect. Then she turns on her heals and trot away. Just like that. Without answering my very fucking simple question. I see her disappear around a big yellow building, which is shooting some chick flick for what I can tell. We’re at some place where they shoot a lot of movies; I don’t know what it’s called. I just show up and do my thing. I am not here to ask questions about the design of the place. All I know is the buildings are huge the size of a gymnasium of sorts and painted in a faded yellow colour. Around each building is a—well let’s call it a trailer park, because that’s what it looks like. Trailer after trailer is placed outside these buildings, hosting all sorts of self-centred celebrities. And yes I am aware that I am one of them.   
“Sooo, Jamie,” Patrick says, putting an arm on my shoulder, “something you want to share with the group?” I raise him an eyebrow. Really, Patrick? What is this? An AA meeting?   
“There is some bad blood between Lily and J,” Rhys try to explain.  
“You don’t say,” is Patrick’s brilliant response, “mind filling me in J?”   
“Yes, I do mind actually,” I say harshly, suddenly feeling very angry at everyone and everything around me, “I’m not really in the sharing kind of mood today,” I say ripping his hand from my shoulder like a five year old and trotting away. I head for my trailer, suddenly remembering my godly blessed Reese’s and cupcakes. I’m actually not allowed to eat the stuff, but we slip once in a while, don’t we?  
“Never mind then,” I hear Patrick say, and I imagine him throwing up his hands in a surrendering gesture, “forget I ever asked.”  
I reach my trailer and step in, slamming the door behind me. Know that feeling where you don’t know why you’re angry? Where you just can’t stop feeling like you want to ram your fist at the walls and beat them till your knuckles ache. Or go throw a trash can one hundred miles away just to get the energy out of your system. I pace back and forth in the small confinements of my trailer trying to make the sudden spark in energy die down. It didn’t it only kept building. I keep pacing and grip my long hair yanking it back from my face, entwining my fingers behind my head. The convulsing violent energy doesn’t disappear, it only grows. I have been anxious for a while now and it just doesn’t seem to go away. What beats me is, that I have no clue why I feel like this. My heart is pounding in my chest and for some reason I can feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. I yank of my clothing and take on my sweats, leaving my chest bare for the sun to scorch. Then I put on socks and my running shoes. As if my arse has caught on fire I sprint out the door. The heats hit instantly, but I don’t slow down. I have to run, I have to. Otherwise I might explode with nervous jittery energy.  
I head for the beach, I pass my all kinds of people none of which recognizes me, I am not famous enough for that to happen yet. Plus at the moment I look too different. My chest is bigger that it has ever been, by arms are lined with veins and muscle. My legs are thundering hard against the ground, making my heart pump in my chest and I start to break a sweat. I could no longer fit into my normal clothe, it was so small and I to muscley. I had had to change my whole wardrobe while being in LA. Much to the pleasure of Evelyn, who had insisted on helping me out.   
I run out the gates of the studio and head straight for the sound of waves which is always close when you live in LA. The houses pass me in a blur, old houses, new houses they all vanish before my eyes as I run and it’s only me and my legs thundering against the pavement. I weaves left over the road, and distantly I hear a car honk. Then I pass a bar selling exotic drinks, just before I hit the beach. The sand buries my feet and makes it near impossible to run, so I slow down for a bit and stagger out near the edge of the water, where the ground is hard and wet, perfect for running. The sun is still beating down on me even though it has started to set. For some reason there are very, very few people at the beach today, for the LA standards that is. This would be a quite trafficked day at the beach if it had been in London. I see none of them as I pick up speed, my lungs starting to burn but I keep going.   
It feels like I have been running for hours or only a couple of minutes when I see her. The red hair beams out at me like a beacon. I stop dead in my tracks. My chest heaving for air, I am still far away from where they are standing. I see Godfray standing casually looking at the ordeal, but what makes my vision go red is the fact that Skye is tugged neatly under some big guy with brown hair. My pulse thunder in my ear, I can’t see anymore. I shan’t. I won’t. Their embrace look intimate as if they’re about to kiss. And I do not feel like watching. Am I seeing correctly? Is that my Skye? I knew it were, I could recognize her anywhere, from any angle. It is her. I turn my back on them sprinting back from where I came from. They didn’t notice me at all. My heart sank to my stomach and began to ache, it was as if no air got in my lungs but I keep running anyway. Might as well strangle myself to death if I can. I really can’t breathe. I put all my attention on my legs. I want to get out of here. I don’t want them to see me and I suddenly do not want to see Skye breaking my trust for her forever. Tears start to pool in my eyes as I run, but they don’t start trickle down my cheeks, they just stay in my eyes making my vision go blurry, till I wipe the polls away. Only to have them reappear again a second later. As I near the flats where we the entire cast lives, I can’t get one single thought out of my head.   
She is just like the others.


	4. tonight on the dancefloor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

“Quit that" Godfray says nudging my shoulder. I am still looking back at this Tom Hiddlestons smiling at him. Friendly.  
"What?" I laugh in confusion at Godfray as I turn back to my friend, though I can still feel Tom Hiddlestons eyes burning into my back.  
"Stop smiling at that guy" Godfray tells me in a low warning voice.  
"What? It's illegal for me to smile at strangers now?" I let out a huff of air. I as much as seem to date Jamie and suddenly both my hands and feet are tied so tightly they make my limbs go blue.  
"No, but I think that smile of yours is a little too flirty" he resolves and shoots smile at me. Okay… so he was sort of joking.. I think..  
"It's just my smile, shut up!" I nudge him with my shoulder. He doesn’t even seem the least bit face by my push, he just walks on as if nothing has happened what so ever. Stupid tall people. Jamie did that too. One time we had had a pushing game while walking home from Martial arts class. He had kept nudging my shoulder sending me clashing into the wall, but every time I nudged back he barely seemed to move. In the end I had literally run him down to get him to react, tackling him with something we learned in Judo class a week or so ago. After that we had.. Been rather frisky in the sheets to say the least. I smile unconsciously at the sweet memory.  
"Okay, just remember you do have boyfriend," he so kindly reminds me.  
"I do? I seem to be the only one doubting that around here" I tell Godfray, staring at the sandy ground. It was true, Jamie and I have been having a great time together, a great time! but we have never actually defined our relationship at all. Right now the definition that fitted us the most was ‘friends with benefits and dash of feels’. I didn’t know what we were. The world knew we were ‘something’, but we had never outright said ‘yes that is my boyfriend/girlfriend’ about each other. It was alarming to me. It made me worry I was just the rebound girl. And I was NO ONE rebound girl.  
"That’s because you're crazy" Godfray says pointing his finger at me.  
"I'm serious Godfray..." I mutter in a hushed voice. Thankfully Godfray hears me, so I don’t have to repeat myself.  
"How can you ever doubt the fact that Jamie loves the crap out of you?" He asks as we pace along the beach, the sun is still hard on our faces and I am thankful for my sunhat.  
"I don't know Godfray...!" I exhale a deep breath of air, "I don't know.. He keeps telling me and I keep trying to shut him up" I mutter under my breath, I know it’s weird, but Jamie kept saying he loves me, but I never believe him. He never calls me his girlfriend ever. He just calls me his lady, girl or woman or his special one, which wasn’t exactly… that flattering. In some ways it made me feel like I was just some quick shag, before he cut all the rubbish out and headed back to ‘real’ datable people. I wasn't even sure Godfray heard because it took him a while to answer.  
"Soo.. you guys got issues?" He asks.  
"Not exactly..-"I try to explain. We didn’t have issues. That’s just me. Jamie seems perfectly content, with the way things are.  
"Then what? You just get tired of his yapping and… or what?" He interrupts.  
"No, he just" scares the crap out of me.  
"He just what?" Godfray repeats.  
"Nothing" I deflect his question,  
"Seriously Skye, I don't get you!" He exclaims running his hands though his jet black hair. I can’t even imagine how hot that must be, going around in the sun with black hair. Yausa.  
"Well get in line,” I say trying to get to another subject. This isn’t going to help anyway.  
"Jamie looks at you like you're the only one in the world for him and yet you still doubt him" Godfray says after much silence. He sounds judging, like he is talking to a naughty child.  
"I don't doubt him" I doubt myself.  
"Then what, Skye? I feel like a bloody detective," Godfray says, he speaks mandarin originally so his can't tell American and British slang apart; to him it's all the same.  
"It'd nothing, I better-" I begin but Godfray intercepts,  
"Figure it out yourself, I know," he finishes my sentence.  
“Yeah,” I breathe and soot him a shy smile. As we walk back towards the flats we talk about nothing and everything all together. We talk about the upcoming rough shooting schedules. Then the two week break in the middle of it all. Jamie talked about going to North Pole and try one of those natural hot bathtub ish thingies. At first I thought he was joking but then he started to look for plane tickets and then I had found my soul purpose in life. Stop Jamie from killing himself. Just imagine what would happen?! He would see a polar bear and then decide he wants to take a selfie with it… or he would take a selfie on the middle of a floating piece of ice in the middle of the ocean. The possibilities were endless.  
Godfray said he wanted to go home to Asia and visit his family, say hallo to his small nieces and nephews. It was sweet how much he loved his family. It made me dream of what I could have had if my mother wasn’t a delusional bint of a woman. My mom is straight out of a Texas mom textbook, where as Godfray’s seemed to be downright western in their approach to life. And in western I mean like in American or European, not western as in cowboys or horses in a shooting match. Wait a minute that’s not quite right.  
“So are you going to that party Rhys’ invited us to? It is a Saturday night in LA after all,” Godfray asks as we walk up the steps to our flat. It a new building which means everything is disturbingly clean and without a trace of personality. It was strange actually.. Back on London everything has a history and most stuff went ages back, everything in Europe is like that, old, ancient at times. But here in the US everything is –in comparison – brand new. The buildings, the ground, the air even feel new, though I know that is a bunch of rubbish. The air is the same all over the world. If not to mention the ground... anyhow you get my point I suppose. I feel like I am walking around a land of new opportunities. Like I just by coming here have become a toddler again and have a world of wonders to explore. Basically I am experiencing the US like everybody else has done in the past 100 years or so. Never mind.  
“It is my first big Hollywood invite, what do you think Godfray?” I say raising him an eyebrow. He let out an amused huff.  
“I get your point, but you know we will be sort of crashing the party, right?” He says, though he must already know the answer.  
“And your point being...?”  
“Well we weren’t really invited by the host,” okay, he didn’t already know the answer.  
“well Rhys knows her and we know Rhys, so I think we’ll be fine,” I argue, “besides it is a huge party, like they’re gonna-“  
“.Notice the whole cast of a series showing up uninvited? I kind of have a feeling they will,” Godfray shoots in, he sounds slightly worried.  
“Untwist your panties, granny,” I joke as I unlock the door to my apartment,(in which I share with Evelyn, seeing as we were the only girls that didn’t have a place of our own in LA – yet that is) “if you don’t break something you’ll be fine and if you do.. Just run away and don’t talk to me for at least a month, okay?” I say as I walk into the apartment with Godfray trailing after me. It’s about 07.00 PM already, which means there is still some leftover time till said party begins and Evelyn and Patrick wanted to get sloshed before the party. And it seems Godfray haven’t got a life of his own and is following me around like a lost puppy. Not that I mind.  
“It is me who should be saying that!” Godfray exclaims as we walk from the hallway into the kitchen, here he sits down in one of the highchairs on the kitchen island where we ate most of our meals, seeing as this flat didn’t contain a normal dinner table for some reason beyond me.  
“Well it’s you getting you’re granny panties all twisted,” I argue, as if I’m an insulted 6 year old. I l leaned against the counter placing my hat on the counter and lifting my feet to brush of the sand that remained there.  
“As I remember it Skye, it was you who ‘stair skated’ down from Marcia’s attic?” he says, while he gives my 6 year old self the ‘you’re a bad girl look’. If I was 6 I would be crapping my pants.  
“Ssshh! Godfray! Be a little louder! She haven’t figured out it was me who broke her vase or whatever it was yet,” I exclaim as I reach forward and put my hand on mouth to stop his words from pouring out, until I realise I just committed to the crime all by myself, so it was kind of pointless. What a criminal I would be!  
Godfray took hold of my hand and removed it, “I thought it was you who broke the lamb?”  
“No, no, that was Jamie and Jorge when they ‘sandwich skated’ down the bloody thing,” I explain, smiling as I recall the memory of the dumb nuts all whipped out of their mind(not that I had been any better) sliding down a curved staircase in the big fancy house Marcia owns. Jorge had taken all the blame for some reason, but really it was Marcia’s fault for inviting us all and then offering out free unlimited tequila. It was really stupid of her! Though Jorge made us tip in for a new vase and a lamb, and an antique glass dog nobody knew who broke. Let’s just say I’m bloody relieved I have a job...  
“You guys are mad,” Godfray concludes, letting go of my wrist. And I poke my tongue out at him playfully.  
“SKYE! IS THAT YOU?!” I suddenly hear Evelyn holler through the flat.  
“IN THE KITCHEN!” I holler back even louder and Eve comes staggering around the corner holding up a flask a white wine, grinning like a lunatic on ecstasy. She had low-cut cowboy hot pants and a crimson tank top on nothing else, her hair loose and wild around her head.  
“There’s my friends,” she sway towards us arms outstretched, it was only now I noticed the bottle was already over half empty, “Godfray you sweet confusingly tall asianly hotty manhunk,” it was only seven pm and she was already a goner. How much had she been drinking?  
“Asianly hotty manhunk?” Godfray whispers confused.  
“And you Skye! Skye! You’re like...” she stared into nothingness, until she suddenly seemed ti remember what she was saying “I like you’re hair, its prêt- pretty!”  
“Okay Eve, I think you’re staying at home tonight,” I say taking a step forward to get a hold of her, try to get her into bed. She weaves around me and hold op her hand to keep me away.  
“No! I need to tell you something, “she burps, “sorry.”  
“You can tell me tomorrow after you have slept of the ruse,” I tell her as i jab forward and get a hold of her wrist, pulling her in.  
“NO but it was important!” she hollers as she struggle against me grip. Evelyn is much taller and much bigger than me but she is sloshed out of her mind, so she can barely stand on her own two feet. Why has she even gotten so drunk in the first place?  
“Not as important as you getting into bed,” I counter. I drag her though the apartment, she whimpers and begs, telling me she will be a good girl if she gets to come along to the party. I just kept saying no, there is a difference between showing up tipsy and then showing up to simply ralph in the bushes before you even join the festivities.  
“No! Please!” she cries the only way a drunken person can. I finally get her in her room, where she sits down on her arse immediately like a defiant child. So that’s how it’s going to be, “I have to tell you something.” She grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“Well you can tell me when you get into bed, okay?” she looks at me like I am trying to trick her, so in true spirit of acting like a 6 sic year old (which at the moment is my specialty) I say ”cross my heart hope to die.” She watches me for a while suspiciously, then seeming to except she simple get up, and get’s under the cover, mumbling, “Okay” as she does so. I follow her and sit next to her tugging her in, switching from fellow sic year old to the part of mom.  
“So what did you want to tell me?” I ask but she already seems to be drifting off. Again I ask, how mush has she been drinking?!  
“Oh yeah, J came by,” she says as her eyes sty to half lid.  
“Okay, what did he want, sweetie?”  
“He told me to tell you...” she yawns, making clicking sounds, like she is re-tasting the alcohol she just ingested.  
“To tell me what, sweetie?” what the fuck is going on with my mom act?! Calling people sweetie is my thing now it seems...  
“To tell you that he’ll be waiting for you tonight on the dancefloor,” She mutters as her eyes fall shut and she start to snore almost immediately.


	5. Twisted thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

It hurts. It feels a little like having you chest ripped out from your gut and squashed into a thousand pieces, before then having it thrown into your chest again against your will. It feel like my head is going to implode and my heart is about to combust. I had trusted her. Trusted her! And she just goes and shags the next big duff around the corner! I slander from her apartment to my own across the hall in a red haze. I walk in with my head still buzzing with stupid malaria mosquitoes. I never did see them coming, now did I? First Lily, then Mathilda, now Skye. Did it ever end? And Gus thought he had it hard. No leg and terminal cancer patient or not, he still had a woman in his live that loved the crap out of him. He wasn’t cursed with eternal misery, like I was.   
I can’t even tell why and how Skye did it... we have barely landed! Why would she want to?! I have made her scream my name over and over again every fucking night! I can tell when she loses herself, when her body clings desperately to mine as if it’s her last resolve. How she shakes and twists as we both tumble over the edge. Why?! I can’t... I thought... She has to go... I don’t want to see her anymore.. It has to stop! I can’t go on like this! Three girls in a row! What is this?! Blood is roaring in my ears, making my balance go haywire. I lean against the granite counter try to collect my racing thoughts. Try to find any sense. But there is none. There is nothing. Everything is empty and meaningless and I just have to except that. I should have accepted it after Mathilda... I thought I had. But then I absolutely had to go fall in love with another darf bimbo.   
I waver through the flat. My skin crawl with sweat, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. Skye can screw me. I am going to show her exactly what she means to me. Exactly.   
I shall go to the party Rhys has invited me too in an hour, I need to go. I need to show her that she hasn’t gotten to me, but for now I shall return to bed where my emptiness awaits me with open arms.


	6. Backfiring party crashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

Flashing neon lights hit my face and music with a heavy bass is vibrating through my body. It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think. There are people everywhere, well not just people – real important people. I swear to god I saw Miley Cyrus a minute ago! And wait a minute was that.. No.. Harry Styles! Fuck! That’s Ed Sheehan! Swifty! I feel like I am in wonderland. I am dead or something? Have my dreams come true? Remind me to buy Rhys something expensive. This... how could this place even exist? How had I ended up here? Damn I love Rhys. The house – more like mansion – is huge and modern, but yet elegant. Everything is made out of glass and stainless steel, though the floors are – yep - mahogany. I feel – for like the thousands time today – like a six year old, this time in a candy shop. I am standing in the outskirts of a big room - the living room I presume – it’s one of those room here you can look directly up stair, where people are standing by a railing with drinks, yammering with each other. By people I meant celebrities of course. Did I mention that? Am I allowed to be here? Yes? No..? Where did Rhys go?   
“Dips on Scarlet Johansson,” Patrick says, I huff at the conceited statement and look to my left where he is standing inspecting the crowed in the middle. Everyone is dancing, closely and very intensely. They seem like a bunch of monkeys in heat. Which I realise they kind of are. Patrick seems to be looking every person in the room up and down as if to acquire his target.   
“Be my guest,” I answer though I doubt he hears me, the music is very loud, “can you see J?!” I ask a little louder, but as I turn to my side Patrick is already gone. Thanks a lot man.   
I decide to search the crowd looking for a familiar blob of golden locks, problem with that is – there are a lot of golden locks. I walk towards the bar where the bartender is mixing the drinks, he is tall and African American –and very attractive.   
“Hey!” I shout at him, trying to get his attention of off... aaah yeah that’s it. I out of famous people, have no idea who this person is, but I’m sure she is important, ”have you seen a guy with long blond hair?” I yell at the hot broad shouldered bartender.   
“What’s his name?” the bartender rumbles back, his voice so deep it’s almost the same tone as the bass in the music. I decide, he probably wants Jamie’s full name, after all this is a mansion full of celebs and he us the bloody bartender. This man probably knew IMDB inside out, “Jamie Campbell Bower!”   
“Oh, him! I saw him dancing with Ashley Greene a moment ago, I don’t know where he is now.” He shouts at me, confirming the fact that he probably knows the name of every famous person alive.   
“Thank you,” I turn towards the dancing crowed. Jamie had asked me to meet him here, this is weird. Okay, actually Eve had asked me to, but the message got to me – so where is the goof ball? I might as well just spring head in. I unhook myself from the bar and sway from side to side, hitting the dance floor. People are dancing and jumping in ecstasy around me. I try to follow the beat (there is less chance of getting knocked around like a ragdoll if you do) while still looking around for Jamie.   
“Hey?!” I exclaim as I pull at a tall person with blond hair, but the person who turns wasn’t Jamie, though he looks familiar like everybody else in the room. “Sorry, wrong person.” I shout, the music probably swallows my words anyway. The guy sends me a ‘confirmed’ smile and turns back to the girl he was dry humping on the middle of the dance floor. I search for ages. How many people can be dancing at the same time? How big is this dance floor? Better question. How big is this house? Did this Natalie Dormer have this much money?! Fame really paid off it seemed.   
Then as if dropped out of the sky he is there. Jamie. I can tell simply by the way he twist his body to the sound of the music. His back is turned towards me and he is far from where I am standing. I start forward calling out his name over the music, though no one, not even Jamie register it. Then as I get closer dodging in and out between the bouncing mop of people, Jamie turns in the heat of the dance. His eyes are half lidded as he watches the woman dancing in front of him with a hungry look on his face. I feel as if my stomach turns inside out and I need to throw up. He does not usually look that way... he doesn’t look at women like that. I have without noticing it stopped in my track. I stare at him, feeling that my legs are columns in a cathedral, instead of limbs with joints that can bend and that way makes me able to walk. He eyes go lazily upwards as if sensing my eyes on him, watching his every move. They’re dancing closely, sensually, like I have never even existed. I hadn’t noticed her before, but then he had swung them around so she wasn’t shielded by his body. Something is wrong. I have no idea who she is. Shot hair, brunette, about my height, that’s about all I can tell from looking at her back.   
His eyes lock with mine. What I see in them nocks the air right out of my lungs. I have never in my life seen such a look. It was filled with hatred and disgust, and then coated the sticky liquid of hurt and anger. How? What have I done to deserve such a look? We were fine this morning! Then he out of the blue does this? Which he so shouldn’t have! I can already tell before it happened, the way they moved and the appearance of triumph in his eyes as he slow leans in.   
He leans forward, towards the girl in front of him, taking her face in his hands and then with his eyes locked with mine, he kisses her. I repeat. HE! KISSES! HER! The girl leans into him, taking a hold of his neck, enjoying the kiss. His eyes leave mine as he focuses his full attention on the woman in front of him.   
I feel as if I float out of my body hovering high up in the air, over the dancing mob, watching as he turns his back on my body on the floor and dance away with his arms around the other girl. I see it all, - or more like imagine it but whatever. Before I without a warning get sucked right back into my body again. What pulled me in you ask? Oh, you know. The usual. Flaring, raging anger.   
What the bloody hell is wrong with him?! Does he have some sort of mental health issue? Has he finally fallen off his damn skateboard and gone retarded – no offence to the retarded people – but he is the biggest douchenossle on the face of this blue planet. There went jolts through my legs as if they weren’t sure whether to charge after him or run away, far away, as quickly as possible. I want my stupid legs to stop, but they just kept jittering as he dances away with the girl. Stop it, make a decision. Now! I think desperately, as if my legs could make the decision for me. My doubt before that we haven’t been a thing is gone. We are – or at least were - a thing. We were a big huge thing. This isn’t the reaction of a person who he is just shagging. This is the reaction of his.... yeah I’ll get around to the weird words another time.   
Finally my legs seem to make my decision for me and I charge after him, weaving unharmed through the masses. Dodging elbows and bouncing butts in bucket loads. I see him. I reach him, rip him from her. He has a dazed look on his face, but he seems to quicken up as he register it is me. I don’t start yelling. I make a decision I’ll probably regret later, but I am so angry I can barely contain myself. I can’t hear the music, over the soaring in my ears. First Mathilda, now this bint?! He is like a sickness. He takes his good sweet hold of you and then he kills you off. Good thing I haven’t told him I love him. He doesn’t deserve that. I shove him hard on the shoulders with the flat of my palms. He tumbles backward only just saying on his feet - gratitude of being whipped into shape by professionals. I am strong as fuck. He might also be stronger, but I have the element of surprise and the feelings of a scorned woman ripping through me. He looks at me his expression unreadable. His eyes are open wide as if he is surprised, but his mouth twist as if he is about to cock out laughing. At what? I don’t know.   
“So you don’t like your own medicine?!” he shouts over the crowd. I can only barely hear him. But I do, though I don’t understand a word. My own medicine? Now he is imagining things too? Then I remember I don’t care anymore, he kissed another woman, which is more than enough reason for me to get pissed. There is no fucking way he can explain this one into the ground. I feel like screaming. But I don’t, I just stare him down as I take two strides closer to him. Then I clog him. My fist plants itself right in between his eyes hard and unyielding. Eat dust shit brain. He goes down, his momentarily limb body hitting the ground hard. I feel bad for about a second, but then he tumbles around yammering and clutching his head. It’s sort of a wonder he hasn’t gone out like a light.   
Then my legs disappear from under me. One second they are present, the next they are gone. I hit the ground, arse first, then back and head. Stars swirls around my eyes. I can’t tell if people are noticing us or not. I am too dizzy. He has whipped my legs out from under me with a quick lash of his arm.   
“What the fuck Skye?!” he yammers over the music. I don’t give him the courtesy of an answer. I can show him just fine what I feel, by beating his pretty face to a pulp. I charge him, swinging my legs over him and trying to grab his neck. This time he is prepared for my anger. As soon as I settle over him - which I now realise is a pretty dumb move – he twists, locking my body under his superior weight.   
“Get of off me, you cheating arsehole!” I scream as I try to hit him across the face, he dodges my attempts easily, sealing my hands together across my head with one hand. So much for being strong... He suddenly lets go of me as if burned, he rolls off. I sit up panting, ready to jump him again. The anger just wouldn’t disappear   
“Stop that, Skye!” he yells at me, his face is red and I can see the vain on his forehead.  
“Like you said you would stop, shagging other women?” I scream back, and then as a second thought I swathe a slap across his face. He hand goes to his face; he must be pretty fucking dizzy. Or he just has a big fat scull. Most likely the last one it seems.   
“Aah! Shit! Are you crazy?! Stop hitting me! Would you like me to beat you?” he bellows as he recovers, we are still sitting on the ground. The nearest people have already noticed us and have formed a large circle around us.  
“Fuck you, Jamie! Just fuck you! I trusted you and then you go and do that bint?! What for?!” I yell indicating toward a blank space where the girl had stood just moment before. Oh well...  
“Like you’re the one to talk! I saw you!” he roars back, I just stare at him. Saw me? What the hell was there to see? “You kissed some guy at the beach today and you can’t even fucking remember?!” his voice is high and squeaky.   
“What?” I quack confused. Has he gone off the deep end?   
“I can’t believe this!” he sighs, “you’re not going to deny it, are you?!”   
“What are you talking about, James?!” I say using his real name, more as an insult if anything. “As I see it, it’s you who is snogging some darf bimbo for no reason what so ever?”   
“You are the one kissing that tall, curly haired man boy at the beach in the first place!” he bellows his eyebrows high and frustration emanating from him.   
“I didn’t kiss anybody!” I scream, he has to stop accusing me of things I haven’t done.  
“Don’t deny it Skye I saw you with him!” he screams back. Tension is running high, my skin tingles and my insides hurt. People have formed a circle around us and the music has become lower. They’re watching us, as if they expect us to start wrestling like we’re in the fight club, which to be honest isn’t that farfetched. One of the downside to learning how to fight is that you – or at least I, it seemed – used it to get some of my anger out. Especially if I knew the person whom I was angry with could defend themselves. I had stopped counting our sparing matches at the dojo long ago.   
“I suppose there isn’t chance I’m the tall curly haired man boy in question?” Somebody rumbles in a deep, so British accent even I notice it. My neck snaps to the side so quickly I am surprised I doesn’t get whiplash. What I am faced with is the tall man from the beach. Or I suppose I could say his name, as I have been told it is Tom Hiddleston.


	7. Heaven is a concept not a reality.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

“You!” Jamie growls as he stares at the man – Tom, got to remember that. Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom.   
“Please come down, there is nothing to become rallied up for,” Tom says, he is standing like he is approaching a wild animal. He is dressed in a light blue dress shirt and cotton black pants. Very grown up and fancy, I feel like a ridged teenager in my dark moss green sundress and black sandals. Why again, am I noticing this..?   
“What are you doing here?” the words sort of escape my mouth.   
“I could ask you the same thing,” Tom quickly answers me.   
“So you do know each other?!” Jamie hisses, there is no longer need to be shouting. The music is gone or just the kind of background music you find at restaurants. Some of the people are watching, others is clearing out the door, some are acting like nothing is going on. I like the third sort the best.   
“Yes, I’ve seen her once before. I was out on the beach earlier today, playing volley with some mates, where I happened to knock over you girlfriend, nothing happened, I assure you. It was an innocent accident,” Tom explains taking charge of the situation. He is very adult-y. Jamie is looking at him as if he ought to be lying.   
Jamie is about to say something when I break him off, “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I start, “it doesn’t matter if there did or didn’t happen something between me and this,” correct myself “- Tom,” I say calmly though inside I am envisioning myself go up in flames over and over again. I have to. He has left me no choice. Jamie jaw is slag, as if he is realising what he has done, “you have done me one up, James. You created this mess, not me you. You kissed someone else, not me, all because you assumed I was snogged him?” I point at Tom who was standing back. I walk closer to Jamie, looking at his face crumble in front of me. It broke my heart.   
“I,-“ Jamie stutter.  
“Shut it, James.” I hiss.  
“But Skye,-“  
“Jamie no,-“ I start but he interrupts me this time.   
“NO, Skye please I didn’t know! I did- I had just seen Lily and she had been cheating on me when we-“  
“That’s you excuse?” now I’m the one cutting him off, it seemed we did that a lot when we got in a fight of any kind, “She cheated on you, so I ought to be too?”   
“No I was just,-“   
“I don’t want to hear it,” I snap, my tone cold. People are milling around us, doing their best to ignore us. I feel like the biggest party bust in the world. I should never have come.   
“Please don’t call me that, Reap,” he tries to take hold of my hand, but I jolt away from him. It feels as if he touch has stung me. As if it sent physical pain through my body.  
“Don’t touch me,” I feel tears swell up in my eyes. I need to get out, “you can’t possibly be that dim witted? How can you believe that..- it doesn’t matter anymore,” I lone tear trickles down my cheek as I pick the next words to come out my mouth, “we’re over. I’m done, Jamie. Done.” then I turn on my heels to storm out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks as I almost face pant some guy’s chest.   
“Woa there, easy,” he says as he steadies me. It was Tom. Why haven’t he left just yet? Hasn’t he served his purpose? He can go out in the world with his ego unsullied for god’s sake. I can feel a hefty cry coming on. I need to get out. This is Hollywood. Not exactly the place you want to break down into a sobbing puddle of tears and agony.   
“Skye please just-“  
“Go away James, I don’t want to see you no more,” I hiss at Jamie.   
“But Skye,-“I purposefully ignore him and look up at Tom.  
“Get me out of her, please. Just get me out,” I plead this tall stranger called Tom. He looks around scanning the party I just flunked, then at Jamie for at short while, and to my surprise he just takes hold of my shoulder and mumbles a simples, “sure.”  
“No, Skye!” I hear Jamie call as Tom guides me through the masses, the house is really packed. Tom guides me through a long hall to the back of the house. I can hear the sound of music soaring again, though it is a low thumbing from this end of the house. Maybe I didn’t ruin a party after all. This part of the house is deserted for whatever reason.   
“Are you all right?” Tom asks, as we walk into a fancy kitchen. I literally only have one word for this house. Fancy.   
“No.” I croak. tears threatens to cascade down my cheeks.   
“Sorry that was a dumb question, can I do anything to help you?” he asks in a very nice and polite voice.   
“Can you get me out of this house by any chance?” I ask, I wonder why he hasn’t just guided me out the front door.   
“Might be a bit of a problem that one...”   
“Why?”  
“Well there is a bit of a paparazzi horde outside... Somebody must have alerted them of the festivities.” he tells me, looking very sorry. Like it is his fault.  
“Oh...” I breathe this is sort of a new problem to me, “There is no other way out? What about the back door or some underground tunnel?” I ask stupidly. He laughs at my feeble attempt to be funny. It’s the sort of gentle chuckle that calms my nerves. I am still worried Jamie will come charging at some point. It’s very unlike him to just give up, and I am not sure I will be able to hold back the tears if he did.  
“Sorry, no tunnel is available unfortunately,” he smiles, I have no idea of telling how old he is, older than me, older then Jamie even, I just can’t pinpoint exactly how old. He has that aura of youth around him, most people in Hollywood got it when they got older. Especially, the successful ones.   
“Bloody bludger,” I mumble, I can still feel the press of tears, though it is not quite as urgent now that Jamie is out of sight and as time passes it seems less likely he’ll come charging.   
“But we could try the bag door,” Tom adds, I look up at him in anticipation.   
“Well, what are we waiting for?” 

We get out of the house and somehow over the big fence. Then we walk about a mile through some shrubbery till we hit asphalt again and city light start to appear. My shins are full of scratches and Tom’s patent leather shoes are done for. Tom had been right about the Paparazzi, we had been able to hear them hollering from the other side of the house. It felt like the place not to be tonight. But maybe that was just me, since I had sort of just broken up with, what I had just found out was my boyfriend. Tom and I are pacing down some road in LA. It is close to where Natalie lives, so it is still all fancy houses, big front laws and Ferraris parked in the driveway.   
“You know, you’re fight with your boyfriend will be all over the web tomorrow, and if anyone saw you leave with me, they will blow things up and so out of proportions, you won’t even be able to tell the truth,” He says as we walk around the corner to a more trafficked road. We’re trying to get to the main road, so we can hitch a cab. But it is still a little way off. I nod, taking in the information he has just given me.  
“Say something,” Tom says.   
“What am I supposed to say?” my voice is gloomy and sad.  
“Anything, what happened in there?” He asks seeming genuinely concerned. I look up at him. He has his hands is pocketed and he is strolling casually next to me as if we hadn’t just hiked through the wilderness. The only thing giving anything away is his unruly hair, the curls sort of stick up in places it hadn’t been before, and then his wracked shoes  
“I broke up with my boyfriend, that’s what happened,” I say, like he didn’t already know. He was sort of there when it happened.   
“I know...- It’s just... I don’t mean to pry, but why? What did he do?” he asks.  
“You’re prying, none the less,” I snap at him.   
“Sorry.” he says. We walk in silence for a couple of minutes. The cicadas are humming and the air is hot, though I can feel the burning of the sun deflate the surroundings.   
“He cheated on me,” I suddenly blurt out in a low voice.   
“Well then he is a tosser I presume,” he replies.  
“He did it because he thought I had been cheating on him with you;” I bounce on my heels as I walk, feeling my calves hurt from training.   
“But we met,,- today right?” he asks, like he might have forgotten me in a blackout or something. Again I wonder about his actual age.   
“Yeah, see why I broke up with him?”  
“Sort of, but do think it’s a good idea being around me?”He asks basically handing it to me.  
“What? my ovaries might explode due to the overload of hotness through your presence?” my tone is so sarcastic I’m surprised it’s not dripping from my mouth. Tom chuckles.   
“Ahahaha, Noo, that isn’t exactly what I meant,” he smiles; “I just don’t think it makes you stand in a better light, that’s all.” he gets back to the uncomfortable subject way quicker than I wanted.   
“Why should I care?”  
“Point taken,” he agrees. Silence again.  
“I feel bad for asking you this but... What’s your name?” he asks after a while, he sounds ashamed of himself, like it is a very bad thing to forget people’s names.  
“Don’t feel bad, it’s Skye,” I answer, “then I might as well ask you something, how old are you? I can for the life of me figure it out.”   
He chuckles again, “I’m 33 actually,” he answers. Okay so not even close to my age. 11 year age gab here... Wow... So this guy is off limits. I have to repeat this to myself several times before I just throw it out the window, I’m a grown woman I do what I want.  
“What about you?”He asks.   
“What? How old I am?” I ask, cars are staring to roll down the street more rapidly.   
“Mhm,” he mumbles.   
“Guess!” I exclaim.   
“That’s mean!” he laughs and I smile at him, “well... I don’t know, 27 maybe?”  
“Ha! Not even close! This is bad… I’m supposed to play a 16 year old girl and I look 27 already!” I squeak in horror and he shoots me a crocket smile.   
“You will soon realise the wonders of cosmetics, sweet,” he says the last word as if he is talking to his niece or something, not me, a girl who he barely knows.   
“Well thank you for the heads up, I’ll schedule an appointment at my doctor. I need to get something fixed apparently,” I say sounding somewhere between horrified and thankful.   
“No please don’t, you are gorgeous, Skye!” he says it in such a plain and simple way without any visible agenda, but giving me a compliment.   
“Well, you’re not the one looking 27, when you’re actually 22...”  
“You’re 22?!” he exclaims  
Oh god... I’m old... “I mumble, rubbing my temples in desperation. Though I know this is a weak cover for the true sadness I am feeling.   
“No! It’s just this vibe you give off... You seem older then you actually are, that’s all,” he drones.   
“So basically I give off an ‘old’ vibe?”  
NO, it’s,-” he start.  
“- Hard to explain?” I finish his sentence.   
“See! You get it!” he exclaims excitedly. I snort. We have gotten to the main road and Tom start hitching cars. A car called over in an instant. The cabbie must have recognized him, he is Tom Hiddleston for crying out load.   
“Where to Mr. and Mrs.?” The cabbie growls. Tom give him some address, must be to his place, I guess I will be going home after we drop him off.   
“Fancy part of town, hu?” he mumbles.   
“I’ll give you 20 bucks to forget this drive and for shutting up?” Tom says harshly.  
“30, Mr. Hiddleston” the cabbie suddenly says making it clear he knew who Tom is.   
“Done,” Tom just agrees. Then he turns his attention back to me.   
“So would you mind saying with me till morning?” I send him a raised brow, wasn’t he the one talking about being seen with him, might not be the best idea? “You’ll get your own room and in the morning I’ll make sure there is a new dress for you so no one see you in the same dress two days in a row and think you’re on a walk of shame.”  
“You really know how to woo women don’t you?” I say, my voice once again dripping with sarcasm. He literally hands it to me.   
“It’s late and you look like you’re about to break down crying,” he argues. So it is that obvious.   
“So you’re just being a good Samaritan or what?” I ask sceptically.   
“Yes, I swear to god, I have no agenda!” he says firmly.  
“And I’ll get my own room?” I say, I know my address is a long ride from where we are now and I feel like I’m about to pass out. The emotional exhaustion from losing Jamie - the only good, or seemingly good thing I have found in years - has finally gotten to me (and the hike afterwards didn’t help exactly.)  
“I swear,” he says. And then we drive through the streets of LA in total silence. In my mind I am droning through tonight’s event over and over. Just as we are walking in the front door to his building, tears trickle down my cheeks without my consent. Stupid tears.


	8. Damsel in distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

The sun is beating in on my face. I can tell even with closed eyes, because the darkness suddenly became yellow. I groan. I pull myself up on my elbows. I look directly into a white nothing. My eyes are slowly adjusting. I am in a big fluffy bed almost buried under miles of blankets and pillows. I can hear the familiar humming of the aircon. My aircon... What..? My vision finally focuses as I blink away layers of goo. I could feel the salt trail stain my cheeks. Last night replays itself for me in flashes. But it seems so far away, like it never really happened. Jamie. Me hitting him, me slapping him, him taking it. him.. Kissing another girl. I made the right choice. He can’t pull stunts like that! He can’t! What the hell is going on with him? I suddenly remember Tom, tall and surprisingly kind. I remember walking in the front door to Tom’s building and then immediately turning around, mumbling, “No this is wrong,” trying to hitch one of the few passing caps, trying to escape the gnawing feeling in my gut.   
“What are you doing, Skye?” Tom asked from the doorway.   
“I need to sleep in my own bed, I can’t do this! You know what will happen if I go with you?” I ramble.   
“Please, enlighten me,” Tom asked calmly from the doorway. I turned pointing furiously at him.   
“We’ll start kissing! Nah- shut up! We will, because that’s what happens! Then - no! Let me speak! Then the next thing we know we’re all mangled together in the sheets all nude,” at this a deep blush had appeared on Tom’s cheeks, but I kept going tears running down my face, “And that way I will have lost Jamie forever! I can’t do that. I need to – why the hell isn’t there any cabs!” I literally screamed the last sentence. I had lost all control.   
“Skye, calm down, we’ll deal with this in the morning.” his tone was calm and controlled, now I’m the wild animal he’s trying to approach, “Just come in and get some sleep,” unlike Jamie, I did not like this treatment. I was not to be appealed to.   
“I AM NOT A DAMSEL IN DISSTRESS!” I screamed before lunging down the street. I ran. I didn’t know why exactly, it wasn’t like Tom was going to follow me. That was only something which happened in fairytales and cheesy chick flicks, in real life guys just mumbled, “Fuck that cunt” and went back into the house.   
“Skye come back, don’t be silly!” Oh my knight in shining armour is calling me! My bare arse. Those don’t exist. I knew that. Brandon had shown me as much! I knew. As if Jamie was any different from the other arseholes, this Tom probably was twice at bad with looks like his. I needed to get away. So I ran. I ran all the fucking way home. Okay honest? I ran 5 miles before giving up and taking a cab... It was 12 pm! And I was about to pass out! Sue me! Then I had gotten up to my flat and all lights just sort of went out. But for what I could remember I had had shoes on, and they were gone. Plus I don’t remember actually getting into bed.   
“Hey,” I’m pulled back to reality. My eyes travel to the doorway on lock on the person standing there.   
Jamie.  
His hair is standing like a golden halo around his face; it had gotten brighter and brighter since we had gotten here, due to the exposure to the sun. He’s shirtless, wearing wet long dark blue swim trousers like he came from the beach.   
“I’m sorry about last night. I never in my life meant to hurt you.” he lies. I know he is lying. What? So he kissed that other girl to make me feel good, is that it?  
“Get out,” I snap.   
“Skye, please talk to me, -“ he pleads.  
But I cut him off, “like you talked to me?” at this Jamie goes quiet. “You didn’t see me kiss Tom, you know it. Because I never kissed him, and I probably never will. You gave me horns and a tail all by yourself Jamie. Now suffer the bloody consequences and go away.” my voice is calm, controlled. I am staring him down, trying not to notice his hard lean stomach and chest. All hard muscle and almost strategically placed fat by now, he looks pretty close to the Greek god every teenage book mentions. Involuntarily I imagine How it would feel to run my fingers over his chest, to feel him shutter under my very touch. To have him pull my closer and closer till we’re linked and singing in the same erotic harmony. No! Stop it, Skye! Almost involuntarily I shake my head.   
“Skye, please it was a mistake!” he begs.   
“See you at work, Jamie.” my voice is showing no emotion and I try to bring my lustful glare to a dead fish stare.   
“Skye, please!”  
“See. You. at. work. James.” I put pressure on each word as if talking to a toddler.   
“NO! We’re going to talk about this!” he bellows.   
“Then talk! Tell me about her? Was she special? Was she worth it? I damn well hope so,” I drone, Jamie’s face scrunches up in disgusted confusion.   
“What? NO! She was a nobody! I don’t even remember her name! I only did it,-“   
“Because you thought I was cheating on you with Tom,” I finish his sentence.   
“Yeah,” he breathes, this times he sounds ashamed of himself. Good.   
“Why would I do that, J? How can you possibly...” I trail off. My voice is softer than I intended, but I just don’t have the energy to scream anymore.   
“I..” Jamie starts but he trails of too, “I...” he starts again.  
“You?” I ask.   
“I was stupid.” he answers, looking at the ground. He fidgets with his hands and stamps slightly in the ground with his left foot, leaning on the other against the doorframe.  
“Now tell me something I don’t already know,” I say and as a result a small involuntary smile appears on Jamie’s lips.   
“I don’t know how to tell you,” he says, so I did it for him.   
“I know Lily and Mathilda cheated on you!” I groan, it had come up after a late night sheet wrestle,” I just don’t get why you think I would do so? Since you know I have been on the receiving end once before”   
“I don’t know what happened, I want running after seeing Lily yesterday, I got so angry! And the next thing I know, I see you tugged under some guy. I know I should just have run over to you! I know! But... I don’t know what happened! The next second I am sprinting head over heels to get home. My brain just... stopped functioning and jumped to the worst possible conclusion within milliseconds,” he ramble, one word stumbling over the other.   
“I can’t accept that, Jamie,” I say promptly. It’s true. I can’t go around being afraid his brain go haywire when he see another man give me a hug, and then have him expect me to be fine with it when I see him kiss (or maybe even fuck) another woman, all because his brain went haywire and he honest to god swears he thought I did the same thing. That is not okay. Period.   
“I know...” he sighs, “I had just seen her and I got so angry, because of what she did to me,-“   
I broke him off, “so you must know how I am feeling?” his jaw goes slag as he realises where he’s gone wrong. “Do you see me going to parties to kiss other people?” I go on, Jamie stays silent and I continue, “As I thought. I stand with what I said last night, we’re over. See you at work.”   
“No, I love you, Skye. Please,-“ I can’t let him finish any more sentences. I’ve had enough. Like hell he loves me.   
“Yeah? Well I’m a cold heartless cunt, who doesn’t even love her own fucking mother!” as I say this I spring up from the bed and charge him, crossing the room in long strides, suddenly charged with energy, “much less you!” I growl as I push him roughly out the door, before slamming it shut and locking it. Then for the sake of all clichés, I lean my back against the door and slide down, burying my head in my lap. Again stupid tears trickle silently down my cheeks. The energy washing away as quickly as it appeared.


	9. Breaks suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

From breaking up with Jamie I learned 3 things. First, Evelyn isn’t my friend, she is Jamie’s. Second, Godfray is my friend, though not a particularly reliable one, and lastly Robert Sheehan knows the best smoothie places in the world. It’s Monday morning, two days has passed since I broke up with Jamie. We’re two days away from starting shooting, I am about to crap my trousers with anticipation. Really shooting! The shoots we had done until now had been to check the sets and to see how our characters would move around and all that stuff. In two days we were going down to serious business. And with Fans going nut on the internet, I – as I have already mentioned – am about to shit out a green pig.   
Tom had been right about the internet going nuts. I had logged on Instagram for about a second yesterday and had found my feed swarmed with videos and pictures from the party. Mostly of Jamie, since he was the one who was actually famous, but I was in there too, yelling my head of most of the time. Our faces had been flushed and our eyes had gleamed crazy. I had even gotten calls from magazines and journalist since then wanting to hear what happened. Get the scoop. I had hung up within 15 seconds. They had kept calling. I had blocked their number. Another thing was the increase in paps following me, or the fact that I saw them snap pictures at me at all. Before they hadn’t given a rats ass who I was. It was only the so called ‘fangirls’ who stalked Jamie who seemed to care and that I could live with, but this was something else. I am not entirely sure, but maybe this is the feeling of succeeding? I don’t know? You tell me. Throwing a tantrum at a Hollywood party came with a following entourage manned with cameras it seemed.   
I am sitting in a crowded dinner, nuzzled in the corner booth chugging down a mango smoothie, with Robert Sheehan - the guy who got the role as Simon Lewis again - trying to beat me to it in the seat opposite me. I slam the empty glass down on the table, exclaiming “done!” before having to cluck my head in agony.   
“Oh, god! Brain freeze!”   
“Hahaha!” Sheehan laughs, “I knew you’d fall for it!” he sets down his half empty glass on the table.  
“Aahh!” I groan clutching my head, “I hate you,” I wince.   
“I love you too, Skye,” Sheehan laughs, before taking a sip of his half finished smoothie.   
“Shut up,” I mumble. The piercing sensation in my head is fading ever so slightly as time passes.  
“You know, you’re pretty stupid sometimes, Scarlett,” he says.  
“Skye.”  
“It’s baffling really. One minute you’re Scarlett the wise,”  
“Skye.” I repeat.   
“The next you Scarlett the profoundly dense.” he goes on in his stupid Irish accent.   
“Skye,” I growl. He is starting to piss me off.   
“Seriously? I tell you the smoothie is anti-brain freeze and you believe me? Now Scarlett,-“  
“For fucks sake Robert my name is Skye!” I bellow. Why do people have a goal to set me of? I must be extremely hilarious. Maybe I look like an angry chipmunk or something, I don’t know.   
“Hahahaha!” he laughs at me whole heartedly, “you really hate you’re name!”   
I sent him a death stare. He did it on purpose. I am Scarlett the profoundly dense. No kidding.   
“You should have seen you’re face! It got all red! Maybe you should watch your blood pressure. I could literally see the blood rise. You’re sort of like a cartoon. With the face going redder for each second,” he smiles, an excited almost childish grin.   
“You’re a douche.”   
“Loud and proud, sweetheart,” Robert agrees. Robert is the kind of person who fucks around A LOT. He is even worse than Jamie, way worse. Sometimes I wonder if he just spends all his spare time coming up with pranks. This one wasn’t even good. He was right, I was stupid. Anti brain freeze smoothie... that got to be a personal best for him and a new personal low for me. I feel like banging my head against window nest to me. I can see people running around in the burning hot sun outside. Robert finishes his smoothie in a couple of gulps. Soon after we get the tip, pay and get up to leave.   
“So you done working out for today?” he asks as we walk out of the small dinner. I nod and tug my huge sunhat and sunglasses on. I get red quickly so I had to protect myself from the hideous UV rays.   
“Are you up for an adventure?” he asks excitedly, mischief already gleaming proudly in his green eyes.   
“An adventure?” I ask sceptically. For all I know Robert regards a trip to hell and back an adventure.   
“Yes, a grand one, one worthy of the gods!” he declares. We pace down the street, the sun slowly baking out exposed skin.   
“What are you thinking off?” I ask cautiously.  
“Just say yes, Skye! It’s not like you have any plans!” his voice has a raggedness to it, yet it goes in pitches at time like he is still a teenage boy. Robert dark brown curly hair was hanging into his eyes and he was squinting against the sun. The guy wasn’t afraid of showing skin, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, surfer short and flip-flops, like he was just about to just in the ocean.   
“You don’t know that?!” I say offended.   
“Mobbing around over you cheating ex and co-star doesn’t count as plans,” he counters.   
“It sounds like plenty of plants to me!”   
“It’s not Skye! You have to stop, Jamie is a stupid guy. If you ask me he is probably mentally ill or just a god dam tosser, but it all ends with the same thing: he kissed another,”  
“Thank you, Sheehan! For reminding me I had almost forgotten this time,” I say irritated.   
“You’re welcome” he just replies nonchalantly.   
“You’re an arse.” I grumble.   
“We already settled this: I know I am.” Sheehan sighs, like he has to repeat something obvious over and over again. He only acts like an arsehole but you can feel he cares, like if he was a real arsehole he would just go hang out with someone who isn’t heartbroken and very likely to sob around in her room all day. Instead he makes the effort to drag me out of bed, throw me in the shower, and then he continues to bang on the door till he can hear the water running and till I get out, since he is not gay, he is not allowed to see me in my birthday attire.  
“Good.” I say.   
“You know you’re coming with me whether you like it or not right?” he asks after about 2 minutes of silence.   
“Yeah,” I just mumble and follow him around the corner.   
“Where are we going?” I ask in a bored voice. For all I know we could be headed for the layer of medusa.   
“You’ll see,” he says as we kept pacing. It felt as if the world was hollow, like the feeling you get right before the storm. Like the air was sucked out of the space around us.   
The reason for this occurred to me about two seconds later when a big truck pulled up next to us. The music booming. Everybody was in there. Patrick, Evelyn, Godfray, Jorge, Rhys and of course fate would have it, Jamie.   
And that all except Jamie scream in unison, “we’re going to Disneyland!”   
Sheehan practically shoves me in the big as vehicle and we drive away, with Jessie J’s ‘Domino’ blaring from the speaker.


	10. Disneyland is a freaking wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

I’ll set the record straight from the beginning. I hate Disneyland. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement, but I really can’t deal with it. The commercial up blast that everyone seemingly accepts and I know for a fact that my character ‘Jace’ would be terrified of all the human sized ducks wondering freely around on the campus. He would be terrified to the point of insanity.   
Besides I am a sucker for the candy they sell, so evidently it always leaves me on the verge of bankruptcy when I finally leave the ‘oh’ so magical place. I have left my wallet at home and asked Patty the pig to put out for me, that way he can tell me ‘no’ when I am on my 10th glazed apple.   
Now you might wonder, why the bloody hell did I come? Well, the answer is very simple. It is one singular reason. That name of that reason is ‘Skye’. The other had told me she would be dragged along, so it didn’t matter whether I tagged along or not, she would be hauled with them, Jamie or no Jamie.  
She still hates me – and rightly so - , I can tell by the way she sits as far away from me as her seatbelt allows her to, even though she sits right next to me it feels as if she is miles away – which sound pretty fucking cheesy to say, but it is true none the less. Her long hair is down and full of uncontrollable curls, the sun reflects in to, making it appear as if she is glowing from within. She is wearing light blue denim shorts and a light pink flowery loose top, which shows of her pale shaped shoulders. Even though she has red hair, her lashes a dark, as is her eyebrows, even though there isn’t a shred of make up on her face. She is chatting cheerily with Sheehan who is seated next to her – seemingly not a care in the world.   
Somehow we can all fit in the van, nevertheless Rhys did rent a big arse van. The sunlight streamed in from somewhere high above us making me thankful for the air-conditioning. I turned around facing the seats behind me, there are three rows. Rhys is driving, next to him sit Evelyn – she chattered about everything and nothing all on the same time – then it is me, Skye and Sheehan in the next row, and all in the back sit Patrick, Jorge and Godfray.   
“So have you guys ever visited the magical kingdom?” I ask no one in particular.   
“Yes, Jamie… I’ve had sex...” Patrick says in a jaded voice, “several times, both the homo way and the hetro way, you name it I’ve most likely done in. twice.”   
“Okay… too much info Patty. I meant Disneyland, not what you’re referring to” I say in a slow horrified voice. I could see Godfray and Jorge sitting with big gobble eyes, stunned by the sudden turn the conversation had taken.   
“You could have been clearer,” Patrick says and Jorge complies by nodding and saying, “yeah could have been clearer about that, J. the magical Kingdome doesn’t only apply to theme parks, you know.”  
“Tushe…” I agree.   
Suddenly Patrick leans in, “Still arguing with the Ms?”   
“We’re not arguing,” I say quietly. Skye seems rather engaged with her conversation, but who knows how long that’s going to last.   
“Then you’re… what? Having the world’s longest foreplay?” he asks in a confused voice like he didn’t already know what had gone down. Skye had made it perfectly clear, we were done.   
“Shit me, Patty,” I mumble almost involuntarily.   
“No thank you, I’m not into that sort of stuff, but-“I lash out at him trying to hit him over the head. He weaves around my hand and it falls uselessly through the air.   
“HEEY!” Patrick bellows, as he clings to Jorge for safety. Jorge has his hands out in front of him as if to say ‘stop! What the hell is going on?’, but he stays quiet with an astonished look in his face.   
“WHAT the hell is going on back there?!” I suddenly hear a girly voice shout from behind me, or in front of me… anyhow, it’s Evelyn. She sounds like my mom did, when Sam – my little brother - and I used to fight in car on our way on holiday.   
“Jamie wants to do poop stuff with me!” Patrick shouts indignantly.   
“I did not!” I groan, like a child.   
“You did to!” Patrick shoots back and we eye each other angrily before we a smile stretch it’s on our faces and we break down laughing the only way guys can, when the subject of the fight is ‘poopy stuff’.   
But all the while Skye hasn’t glanced in my direction once. Not once. She just kept chirping on with Sheehan. Why did she need to have so damn many male friends, so damn many! Okay, so Brad is gay, so I know he doesn’t count, but what about Patty…. He is bi, so he is like a half… and with Jorge, no Jorge is gay… I think… Is he? Maybe he is pan sexual… Maybe he is hetro, he seems hetro… But, what about the rumours surrounding him and Patty? Their late night dates. Then he is at least bi! But what about Godfray…? Okay I give up. Everybody is gay. I am gay. End of story.   
As we get closer and closer to the magical kingdom, people in weird outfits starts to flood the streets. Mostly small kids dressed up as Disney characters, even their parents are wearing some kind of Disney merch. Mouse ears, dotted skirts, a hook, an eye patch. Some had even full outfits – the most hard-core of them all is of course the full blow princesses. Or maybe they were the ones who actually worked here? Who knows?   
Soon we find ourselves swarmed with people and cars driving in tortoise speed everywhere.   
“If anyone sees a parking spot, holler at me please,” Rhys says from the front seat and everybody mumbles some sort of reply while staring intensely out the window, taking in the surroundings.   
Everything is big and spectacular. Huge cautiously arranged flowerbeds in almost florescent colours, tulips, lilies and roses all in a madly beautiful mix. The mass of people buzzing around like small bees on the hunt of none existent sales. Soon Skye jumped up from her seat shouting “there! There!” while pointing at an empty parking slot. Rhys quickly wheeled the car in.   
We all get out the door, lock the vehicle and go to get in the theme park. We dodge in and out between the masses – it was a wonder we didn’t lose each other on the way actually. Soon we find ourselves in the middle of Disneyland, kids screaming and adults awing all around us.   
Who is up for food?” Skye asks looking around at us – locking eyes with everyone except me. I know I deserve it, so I won’t complain. I won’t, okay?   
Sheehan springs forward, “I am, that smoothie was no good.” He claps his stomach hungrily.   
“Anyone else?” she asks again.   
“Count me in,” Godfray says and I make a very stupid decision.  
“Me too,” I say. She looks me dead in the eyes, as if just now noticing my existence. There is not one emotion on her face, but – maybe - concealed loathing?   
“Okay let’s go,” she says and turns to hook her arm in Sheehan’s. They start trotting down the alley like a bloody married couple. Soon they are out of hearing range.   
Godfray walk up to me and we start to follow them down the street, looking for acceptable fast food restaurants   
Are you and Skye still fighting?” Godfray asks.   
“No,” I reply, “she simply hates my guts.”  
“You did kiss another chick, J,” he reminds me and I look at him out the corner of my eye, ‘you seriously think I don’t know that?’ is what my eyes are supposed to say.   
“Sorry,” Godfray says, “That was a useless comment...” we stay quiet for a short while, until Godfray takes to words again, “what are you going to do?” he asks.   
“I have no idea.”  
“You’re still in love with her are you not?” he asks.  
“Madly.”   
“And?” He asks as if he is looking for something obvious, "what are you going to do about it?!” he asks after a while.   
“I don-“  
“Shut up Jamie.”  
“What have I done?!”   
“Nothing! which is the fucking problem! Now you go suck up to that girl like it’s your job. If you truly do love her, so god damn show her! For fucks sake Jamie, you kissed another woman! Like hell she is going to let you in if you don’t show her you care. Try to explain your failure, your point of view without sounding like a dumb asshole.” he says sternly, like he is giving orders to an inferior   
“Well, I don’t think that’s even possible.” I state sadly, “Because I kind of was a dumb arsehole.”   
“I ask again, do you love her?” Godfray repeats.   
I groan at his consistency, “point taken. I’ll do something, when the time is right.”  
“All I wanted to hear.”  
We pace slowly down the street, tracking behind Skye and Robert by a few meters. All of a sudden Skye yanks Sheehan’s arm hard and drags him towards a place proclaiming to have the world greatest beef. Godfray and I follow swiftly after them and almost run them over, as they have stopped abruptly at the entrance of the restaurant.   
“What are you waiting here for?” Godfray asks in confusion.   
“Nothing..” Sheehan says looking smugly at the ground, and then he leans over and whispers something I couldn’t hear in Skye’s ear. The curiosity is almost overwhelming I want to hear what they are saying so badly. But I am not really the best bloody lip reader.   
We walk in and sit down at one of the less clammy tables we can find. Then Sheehan stands up and point at us all after turn, while asking what we would like to eat. After having all our orders he trots of towards the counter at the other end of the room. It isn’t a fancy place, no servers; it seems more like a country McDonalds’ if anything. World’s greatest beef = my bare arse.   
The silence at the table is deafening even with all the clattering and yelling around us, it seems as if we are in our own little vacuumed bobble. I stare at Skye. Her hair is hanging down over her face carelessly. The light rose colour of her flow-y top makes her skin look more milky and delicious then ever and I want nothing more than to kiss every inch of it. I can almost see it. Heated images flare before me, some memories, and some pure fantasies. It’s hard to tell them apart.  
I suddenly snap back to reality. She hasn’t looked at me once. She is sitting fidgeting with one of the many bracelets she is wearing, purposefully ignoring my existence.   
Suddenly Godfray who stands next to me stands up, “I better aaahh... – what is it you brutish people say? Hit the loo, isn’t it?” he gives a sort smile before trotting of on his extremely long legs. He sends me a stern look, before disappearing in behind a wall. I turn back to Skye. She is looking at her stupid bracelet once more, twisting it every which way in her hands.   
“So, are we ever going to really talk about it?” I ask breaking the silence. trying to do as Godfray wanted me to. Now is a good a time as any, I guess. One of my only chances to talk somewhat privately with her anyway.   
“There is nothing to talk about.” she says in a matter-a-fact kind of way.   
“There is plenty to talk about, Skye!” I lean in over the table whispering intensely at her.   
“No.”   
“Skye, I can’t accept that.”  
“It’s not your choice, James.” she replies still not looking up at me.   
“Don’t call me that name. I’m Jamie and you know it.”  
Suddenly she slowly she raise her head to look at me.  
“I think your wrong about that. You are James. Wanna know, how I know? Jamie wouldn’t have done the things you have, believed the things you have about me. So trust me when I say you’re James. Because I know for sure you are not my Jamie.” she stares daggers at me, her eyes full of betrayal and hurt. I am dumbfounded, speechless, unable to grasp just the simplest coherent thought from my consciousness. A burning whole have for days been growing bigger and bigger inside my chest and it just expanded tenfold.   
“You can’t mean...” I quack already feeling the lump in my throat and the threatening pressure of silent tears pressing behind my eyes.   
“I do.”  
“But I love-“  
“You love me?” She says the words as if their poisonous, ”you should have thought about that before shagging another, now shouldn’t you?”   
“Skye,”  
“No,” she snaps,” I won’t hear it, we’re over. Deal.”  
“Skye, please, just listen...” I say in weak defeated voice. What a man I have become. Pathetic.   
“No, get it through you thick scull. We’re over, no more, ended. You made sure of it.”   
“No!” I say a little too loudly, slamming my hands in the table rising ever so slightly from my seat. I hear my blood pulsing in my ears, and I take a deep breath to come down. Some of the people sitting at the nearby table turn to look at us in a mixture and surprise and annoyance of the spectacle.   
“So you guys seem cheery.” Sheehan slams a tray of food on the table and sit down next to Skye with a loud thump, “Ketchup?” he says handing a red plastic pack to Skye.  
“I think I’ll leave.” I say, suddenly not only feeling out of place as I had before, but downright unwanted.  
“Yeah,” Skye says coldly, “Good thinking James.”   
I turn and leave the restaurant in a hurry, silent tears already coating my cheeks. I curse silently at myself and wipe the harshly away. Man up, Jamie. Man the fuck up.   
I search for my phone in my pockets as soon as I get out of the restaurant. Bollocks. I Left it at home. That was the stupidest thing I have done in weeks. Scratch that.   
I start trotting down the street without any sort of direction. Just have to hope someone I know finds me I suppose, fan or friend I don’t care.   
I know one thing for sure. I still hate Disneyland, this time with good reason.


	11. The girl with the unicorn onesie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

Catfish, monkeys, bouncing potatoes with whipped cream. Castles made of coco pops and bananas. What the bloody hell is this place? Magical place, more like the most sugar sweet horror story ever created. Of course I am talking about Disneyland… the sugar sweet torturous horror story that it is.   
I am standing in line for some ride, blaring the Indiana jones theme song over and over again. Kids were screaming their heads off all around me and I should control myself greatly not to whack them over the head, with a bat – preferably.   
“Lort! Det her er simpelthen for meget!” It sounded like the person was talking with a potato in their mouth. I look around, I have heard that kind of accent before, I’ve been in that country enough times to recognize the grumbling swallowing sound of their language. It is Danes, people from the north, Scandinavia.   
“Neej! Se nu der, jeg tror ham derover ser mærkeligt på mig,” says an equally growly potato chewing voice. I turn around and am faced with two very small women – even for small women, they are small. One of them has short velvet red, which curls around her round slightly chubby cheeks and she facieses one of the smallest nose I have ever, and on said nose rests a pair of glasses.   
The other one is just as small as the first, though her face is longer, more oblong. Like the first one she is wearing big thick geeky glasses. Maybe she is a Harry Potter fan who knows?   
“Camilla!” one of them says, nudging the other woman with her elbow. The one with the velvet read hair is staring at me in awe. Fans. Automatically a semi genuine smile stretch across my face, being told you are an arsehole by the girl you love isn’t exactly the most cheerful thing in the world.  
“Hvad?!” this ‘Camilla’ says indignantly, so I gathered it meant, “what?!” then she follows her friends stare and they both just sort of stare at me, their mouths handing open.   
“HI..!” the one with the velvet hair chirps the out of breath sort of exited. “Jamie...” they both seem slightly familiar, somehow.   
“Hi there! You seem familiar somehow? Have I met you guys before?”   
“I went to see you in Copenhagen, I met Camilla there actually;” the one with the velvery hair say, whos name I don’t know.   
“Oh! You seem familiar too!” I say, I meet so many faces I am not sure if I’ve even met either one of them, but if they have been to one of my gigs, I most likely have, “what are you doing here?” I ask.  
“Same thing you are I suppose,” the woman with the big glasses respond shyly. I laugh, because of my stupidly obvious question, but then again I don’t see them swimming in a sea of agony, but what do I know? Then suddenly my memory snap and I turn to the one with the velvet hair again.   
“Oh my god! You were the one who gave me the unicorn onesie, weren’t you?!” I ask excitedly, I remember receiving a unicorn onesie at Guilfest and I am about 90 percent sure this woman with the tiny nose and sort velvet hair gave it too me. All of a sudden I feel a little dizzy and a grab the line railing next to me for balance, the two women chatter on.   
“I did!” she sends me a wide smile, “I gave it to you at Guilfest! Did you like it?”   
“Yeah, “ I exhale, did I like it? it was an tremendously good gift, I had run around in it for hours after receiving it. Unexpectedly I remember the first real night with Skye. The party we threw after finishing our first album, in the name of the darling buds. I remember how we danced around for hours on end, not a care in the world. How she had looked like a kindergartener in the pink unicorn onesie and how much I had enjoy the silliness of that evening. I didn’t know I cared so deeply for her then. I knew nothing about her, I had no idea how crazy and annoyingly stubborn she could be, and how I was going to fall flat on my face for all of her enchanting oddness. “It works wonders.” I finish, smiling at the woman let’s call her Teresa, like that nun, she seems nice.   
“Jamie? Are you okay?” the one with the velvet hair – Teresa - says and grab my arm. I didn’t even notice I was swaying towards the ground. huh.   
“Sorry, I’m Fine, wups,” suddenly the ground came near, but it ran away again. “Sorry.”  
“Have you been drinking?” ‘Teresa’ asks  
“What? No! I’m sober!”  
“No Jamie, I mean like have you drunken any water?” she asks, still grapping my arm and trying, shaking me. What’s going on? Why is the world fussy? wow.  
“Aaahh,” I say and then the world goes silly. I can’t concentrate on anything, the world flashes and I think I feel myself move. I hear them talk the potato language again, but I can’t figure out what they are saying. Mostly because they are speaking another language, but also because there is this annoying ringing in my ears that just won’t go away. i try to shake my head, but it just gets worse. After feeling myself move I can’t remember much just flashes, something wet trickles down my chin and down my astonishingly dry throat. Someone opens my mouth and shoves something utterly delicious in there, I chew slowly, almost as an instinct. It is like my mind and body are no longer attached to each other. Like they are two very, very separate thing, working independently from each other.   
When my mind finally started to work again, I was staring into the face of the velvety haired woman – Teresa – and the other one is standing next to me a hand on my shoulder.   
“Jamie?” Teresa asks, grapping my arm tightly.   
“What happened?” I ask freaked as I look around. I am sitting in the shade on a bench. The one with the glasses has a half empty water bottle her free hand.   
“Dehydration,” Teresa says, I have no idea why I called her Teresa anymore. Just easier than to think make up a name of your rescuers that to call them by their appearance I guess.   
“Oh.”   
“Where are your friends, Jamie? Weren’t you with someone?” Teresa asks.   
“Ehm...” the world is still wobbly, dancing in and out of focus. the one – Camilla- I think her name was, hands me the water bottle , I take a gulp and she takes it from me again. Maybe she thinks I’ll drop it, maybe I would have, after all the world is oddly fuzzy.   
“Jamie do you have your phone?” the one with the glasses asks – Camilla -, and I dig in my pocket and whip it out and hand it to her. She asked for it, maybe she needs it, maybe her friend is in trouble! She sighs and takes it from me, flipping it open.   
“There is a lock, what’s the password?” she asks, stretching the phone towards me again.   
“2211,” the password escapes me before I register it, not that I am in any state to give a crap. She shrugs and presses the buttons. She clicks around for a bit and then looks up at me.  
“Okay, Jamie I need names, who came here with you?”   
“No, I don’t want to see them.”   
“Jamie.”   
“No, give me my phone back.” I say sounding like an indignant child. She doesn’t give it to me.   
“No Jamie, names now. You need to get out of here, who drove you? Did you drive yourself? Who came here with you?” Wow too many questions, I had stopped listening somewhere along the way.   
“Jamie!” Teresa snapped her fingers in front of my face, “Names!”   
I stay silent for a while until I ask, “do you guys know, Skye?” they look knowingly at each other until they look back at me, interest and yet worry in their eyes.   
“What about her?” Teresa asks kindly, the other one move away a little – still with my phone in her hands.   
“She is… I am sorry, you don’t care,” I say suddenly coming to my senses. Telling personal stuff to a stranger/fan wasn’t exactly one of my best ideas.   
“It’s okay, Jamie. You almost passed out from dehydration before. If something worries you, just tell me. I might be a fan of yours, but I am first of all a human being, just like you.” Teresa says kindly. I smile, she seems kind.   
“I just royally fucked up thing with her, that’s all.” I say. the woman nods.   
“Is she here with you?” she asks.   
“yeah, plus all the others from the new cast.” I tell her. I don’t know why I do it. telling fans anything in person usually didn’t go well, mostly because they were way too excited to meet me, so having a ‘real talk’ with them almost seemed impossible. Though these two seemed oddly calm, maybe it’s because I almost passed out a second ago, or they found me at my worst most needy hour, or maybe it is just like the woman said, she is human just like me. And that is hard to argue with.   
“Okay, what happened anyways? from the pictures you both seemed pretty upset?” she half asks, half states.   
“Have you read any of the gossip surrounding them?” I ask, and she nods. She hands me some chocolate she was sitting with and I take one, and crew. it makes me feel better, both physically and emotionally.   
“So is it true? Did you really?” she asks in a low voice. I nod and shoot her a sad smile, “you really did screw up royally.” she agrees with my former statement. I huff halfheartedly, not knowing what to say.   
“And she wants nothing to do with you?” she asks  
“Obviously,” I answer after swallowing the chocolaty treat, I have no idea what is, but it is delicious.   
“Why did you..?” she lets the question hang in the air. ‘Why did you kiss another woman in the first place?’ good question I’ll answer as soon as I know. At the time it had seemed logical. Like I was in my right to do so. I wanted her to feel as hurt as I did. But she had never done a thing and I had betrayed he trust. I am the biggest dumb nut to ever walk the earth. I should have walked up to her. I should have taken a second glace when I saw her under that guy. I should have figured it was an accident, instead I ran off like that coward I am. After all I am not brave.   
“That doesn’t matter,” I say to Teresa, “all that matters is that she is hurt and I need to fix things.” a wave of energy pulses through me and I shot to my feet. I need to find Skye. I can’t have it this way. For one thing we were going to work together for years and secondly I loved her and that had to mean something didn’t it? It just had to. It had to.   
“where are you going?” the other woman had come back, her hand was lowering from her ear. where she held my phone.  
“I need to find a friend of mine,” I say, standing still not really knowing where to start but ready to plunge in the masses of bypassing people at any moment.   
“hold your horses, they are on their way, “ she says handing my phone back to me, “I called her, this Skye you mentioned and persuaded her to come get you.”   
I stare at her. Oh no she didn’t. Skye must be furious. It is one thing to storm off like I did. Something else, to need a help after doing so. Bollocks. I am a fucking idiot and a moron. Wondering around in the heat for hours without food and drink. Genius. I didn’t blame the women; they were only trying to help, but still. They could have called about five other people and yet they chose the one who hates me the most at this point in time. Not that I had given them much choice either, why was Skye’s name always the first one to pop into my head when I needed someone? She is like a bloody disease.   
Then I hear her voice, howling my name irritated.   
“James Metcalfe Campbell Bower!”


	12. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

I see the idiot immediately. He stands next to two women, one of them is pulling his shoulder urging him to sit down the other is standing next to him his phone in her hands. Under his newfound tan, his face seemed weirdly pale and sweat tinted his skin. His hair was devil may care handsome, which meant it was all over the fucking place. But he didn’t seem all that well; he seemed confused and sad of course, but also a little ill. His eyes wild and vaguely glassy.  
I catch up to them and one of the women turns to me, the one with Jamie’s phone in her hands.   
“So I’m guessing you’re Skye?” she asks.  
“It’s me, what happened?”   
“Dehydration. One second we were talking to him, the next he was passed out on the ground.” She informs me  
“Just great, thanks for phoning me anyways, and helping James, he’s been a bit off today,” I reply as I put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. I could feel his eyes laying heavily on me.  
“Are you okay?” I ask as any normal friend would. My outburst earlier forgotten, I might be mortally mad at him, but I didn’t want him to go around passing out on the ground. I am not that evil. Believe it, or not.   
“Yeah, a bit,” he says placing his hand over mine on his shoulder. I remove mine immediately.  
“Good,” I reply shortly, still holding an eye on him for a second longer – in fear that he might just tumble over (with Jamie you never know) - and then I turn to the women, “Do you guys know James from somewhere?”   
“Aaaahh,” they mumble in unison.   
They look awkwardly at each other, the ground and then lastly up at me, “well we’re fans of his, we both met him at one of his gigs,” the woman with sort reddish hair tells me, seeming slightly embarrassed and out of place.  
“Oh, cool!” I say smiling; I’ve actually never seen fans of his over the age of 20. They were somewhat rare bread, I guess. They seemed older than me, more like Jamie’s age, though much more grown up. Jamie is a real child-man; after all they seem more than capable of taking care of a comatose Jamie.   
“It is!” the same woman chirps, appearing more sure of herself after my positive reply, “Jamie is great live! Just before we were talking about the time I gave him a unicorn onesie at Guilfest,” the reddish haired woman shot a friendly smile, which round her rosy cheeks. The other woman just sat down fidgeting with Jamie’s phone absentmindedly.   
“You... Gave him that onesie?” I ask, my brow furrowed together and the red haired nods, I turn to Jamie, “wasn’t that the one I was wearing when..?”  
“When we first slept together? Yes it was.”  
*smack*  
I hit him over the head with the flat of my palm.   
“We didn’t sleep together that night!” my irritation over his sly comment is greater than it should have been. Arsehat. I turn to the women, “I promise you I didn’t sleep with him wearing your gift!” I plead her. I need her to believe me. “We only fell asleep together and that’s all! Nothing more happened! I swear!”   
A slightly cheesy smile spread over both of the women’s faces, “that’s cute, are you guy´s a thing?” red haired woman asks, the one woman who had sat down looking though Jamie’s phone, had looked up, when I had smacked Jamie on the head, before she joined her friends cheeky grin.   
“No. Just friends,” I reply, making sure Jamie hears every word. Both their grin lessens and Jamie lets out a disbelieving huff. Suddenly a loud ringtone erupts.   
“Jamie?” the more silent one of the women asks, “Mister Sparkles is calling…” she stretch out his phone towards him.   
“That’d be Godfray, here, I’ll take it.” he grabs the phone, get slowly up and walks over two the next bench out of hearing range to talk in peace.   
“Jamie seems happy around you,” the red haired women says, “he hasn’t stopped looking at you since you came,” a sad smile appears on my face, I am still mad at him. I need to be. What he did hurt. “Is something wrong?” the same woman asks, does she have some sort of sixth sense or what? Yes something’s wrong! Everything is bloody wrong! Jamie’s is the most idiotic arsehole on the face of this very blue planet. That is what’s wrong.   
“Hm, depends on how you describe wrong,” I answer. She nods as if she understands, and maybe she does. Or maybe she purely accepts my answer either way, she seems like a nice person.   
“You know he’s crazy for you right?” she suddenly says, I look up at her in confusion, “I’ve been a fan of Jamie for a long while, and I have seen him both with Bonnie, Lily and Mathilda. None of the ways he looked at them matches the way he looks at you. It would terrify me, if someone loved me as much, as he seems to love you.”   
Talk about getting knock off guard… that... Ehm wasn’t exactly what I... Ah, expected… I didn’t know how to feel, she not scared of giving me a piece of her mind.   
“You don’t know what he did...” I say sadly – if not to mention stupidly, of course she knew. Jamie isn’t exactly an anonymous person, every detail about our rampage at that celebrity party had within a couple days seen the light of day. If she is a fan, she knew.  
“I think I have an idea of it, and I’m on your side. Believe me. Make him suffer for what he did, make him pay. But don’t make him hate you. The kind of love I see in his eyes doesn’t deserve to die.”  
I feel like a fish on dry land. My mouth opens and closes repeatedly as I try to figure out what to say to that.   
“Godfray is on his way. He went on one of the water rides and got drenched, that idiot.” Jamie says as he tugs his phone away in his pants.   
“We better go too, we need to be at a restaurant in a little while,” the talkier of the women say as she picks up her backpack. The other one just smiles and nods, already holding backpack, then digging trought it she suddenly steps forward, towards Jamie and says, “you better take this, I don’t want you going around passing out.” then she hands him a water bottle. Jamie laughs kindly and gives her a short hug.   
“Thank you, for not leaving me to die.” he says a smile on his lips. He gives the other woman a hug too. He seems a lot better now, his face almost got it usual glow back – only a faint hint of paleness remaining. He takes a big gulp of the bottle then he looks at me, raises the bottle and says, “What? Doctor’s orders”   
Without meaning to I smile at him.   
***  
“Get in the fucking car you blithering idiot!” Rhys bellows at Patrick, who is currently swinging a drenched Godfray around in some odd waltz. Godfray’s white shirt clings to his skin, and most of his pant is drenched too, only leaving a few dry patches around his shins.   
Patrick points his tongue at Rhys, “teaching this lonely wizard to waltz! Somebody ought to!”  
“You call that waltzing?” I ask, in a disbelieving manner.   
“Shut it, McThree-legs” he says as he swinging Godfray around, “Now a step to the right, no! The other right!”   
They were dancing around on the parking lot. People around us are finding their cars; thankfully none of them have started their engines yet. If they had, they’d be shouting at Patrick and Jorge. And we’d be finding ourselves in a bitch-fight from one second to the other. The sun is going down, the golden rays reflecting in the two black haired guy’s hair.   
I huff and get in the car, Sheehan follows me and Jamie get in on the other side. I feel his arm bump into mine as he buckles his seatbelt, even though there is plenty of room.  
Rhys keeps yelling at Patrick and Godfray, as Evelyn and Jorge get in the car. Evelyn in front, Jorge in the way back as before.   
After loads of shouting and witty comebacks, Godfray and Patrick finally scramble in the car and we take off toward the apartments.   
Sheehan turns to me as we hit the highway. It was past nine pm, we had stayed at the park for hours after Jamie had passed out, going on ride after ride.. Mostly I had tried to remember the fact that I hated Jamie, and I wasn’t sure how well I had done. I kept finding myself smiling and laughing at his jokes, unwillingly even. At some point I had even started not to shy away from his touch. I had realized this when he had held his hand on my thigh for 15 minutes as we had eaten supper, without me noticing it. But what the woman had told me kept droning through my head, “The kind of love I see in his eyes doesn’t deserve to die.” what kind of loves was she talking about? The kind that made you cheat due to jalousie overload? For what I could gather, that kind of love wasn’t really worth collecting.   
“So you ready for Wednesday?” Sheehan asks.   
“Yeah, I’ve read the script so many times a repeat it in my sleep,” I reply rubbing my temples. I feel a head ache slowly taking it hold in me. Sneaking up behind me like a the black blob thingy first does in Spiderman.   
“Then come at me, give me your first line!” he challenges. I glare at him. Then sigh and comply.   
“You’re the one who’s first dumb arse!”   
“Hh yeah right… here we go,” he closes his eyes temporarily and then slowly opens them again, when he did all his Sheehan-ness is gone, replaced by the teenage-y awkwardness of Simon Lewis.  
"So, pretty good music, eh?" this was one of the first scenes, inside of what would be the Pandemonium where clary first meets Jace and his crew of black-clothes demon slaying psychopaths. I imagine myself dancing in a mob of people without actually moving. This is quite hard.   
“"Mmm-hmm." I mumble distracted. Pretending I am watching some hot blue-blackish haired boy who I thought was ‘cute’, not exactly my type but there you go. Clary is odd. Then I imagined Evelyn walking up to mentioned boy and flirting with him, then I pouted disappointedly.   
“I feel," Sheehan - in Simon mode - went on, "that this evening DJ Bat is doing a singularly exceptional job. Don't you agree?" Clary - I - roll her – my - eyes and didn't answer; as I apparently knew that Simon hates trance music. I stared at Evelyn imagining her in a white dress and all, still cozying up to Mr. Spikey-hair. I imagine two figures approaching.  
"Meanwhile," Simon – Sheehan - adds, "I wanted to tell you that lately I've been cross-dressing. Also, I'm sleeping with your mom. I thought you should know." I imagine seeing Evelyn sneaking off with Mr. spiky and then imagine Jace and Alec sneaking after them. Then they pull out a knife.   
"Simon!" Clary – I - shout, and I seize Sheehan’s arm.  
"What?" Sheehan looks the perfect form of alarmed and discomforted. "I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman, for her age."  
"Do you see those guys?" I gesture wildly out the front window of the car. "Do you see those two guys over there? By that door?"  
Sheehan squints, and then shrugs. "I don't see anything."   
"There are two of them. They were following the guy with the blue hair-"  
"The one you thought was cute?"   
"Yes, but that's not the point. The blond one pulled a knife."   
"Are you sure?" Simon stares harder, shaking his head. "I still don't see anyone."   
"I'm sure." Suddenly all business, Sheehan squares his shoulders. "I'll get one of the security guards. You stay here." then he looks past me over at Jamie.  
“J? Care to join? We’re rehearsing our lines, you, Evelyn and Patrick is up next:”  
“I thought we already shot that scene?” he asks confused.   
“We’ll have to shoot again, they didn’t get it right.” Sheehan informs us, god knows where he got that info.   
“Okay, let’s. Patty, Eve!” hearing their names they turn towards us, “we skip the part with you and the demon boy, Eve. We’re a little low on demon boys at the moment.” Evelyn nods and then Jamie says, “I’ll start. We’re in the backroom and we’re just questioned the demon, but we got sick of it and yeah.. got it?” we nod. Then he begins.   
“By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is. Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you-" he imagine he holds a knife in his hand "You can join him there." Jamie pretends he is about to stab the car seat between us.   
"Stop!" I cry. "You can't do this."  
With a confused look on his face Patrick spoke as Alec, "What's this?"  
"It's a girl," Jace – Jamie - says, "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister, Isabelle is one." He leans closer to me, squinting as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "A mundie girl," he says, half to himself. "And she can see us."  
"Of course I can see you," I say. "I'm not blind, you know."  
"Oh, but you are," Jamie say. "You just don't know it." He leans back in his seat, nonchalantly. "You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you." The he gets up and leans closer, staring me down intensely through his dark golden lashes.   
"I'm…” I swallow hard, suddenly feeling my cheeks flush, “not…” I stare into his intense sky blue eyes. I feels like his body is a magnetic field and I am a piece of scrap metal lying around, inevitably destined to be drawn in by him. He leans in closer, his lips inches from mine. The hard shielding Jace-ness of his eyes vaporizes, leaving a raw passionate Jamie in front of me. The car has gone dead silent, but I don’t really register it. The only sound is coming from the humming the radio, but it’s barely audible. I can only see him, and his stupid amazingly blue eyes. I can physically feel his body calling for me. But I am frozen on the spot. Locked in a little bobble where only Jamie and I exist. What I can only describe as adoration and maybe even real genuine love pores out of his eyes, forming a lump in my throat. I don’t know how to feel. The battle inside of me is tearing me to tiny pieces, as the milliseconds pass. Forgive and forget or make him suffer? Forgive and forget or make him suffer? Forgive and forget or make him suffer? I am petrified.  
Then in a flash of a second he presses his lips gently and carefully to mine. And everything explodes.


	13. Unpetrification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

Jamie’s lips are resting feather light upon mine. I honestly have no idea how to react. Whether to hit him hard across the face and yell, till all the veins in my forehead pops and I pass out, or if I should simply kiss him back. My body knows what it wants. Him and his body against mine all bloody night. My heart is aching to trust him, to feel whole again. But my brain is scream at me to push him away and make him pay, to make him hurt like I did, to break him. But then the stupid words from the woman come up again, “The kind of love I see in his eyes doesn’t deserve to die.” And still the questions remains, what should I do? Should I take her advice? Or should I go against it? After all she wasn’t the one being cheated on. Due to this inner state of constant confusion and indecisiveness I did nothing. I simply remained petrified. Feeling his soft lips on my, and the oddness of contradicting emotions correlating in my body.   
The car is silent. The others are looking away, as if they are not supposed to be here. They’re either looking out the window or down into their lap. I register the radio being turned up, just as Jamie releases my lips, his breath hot, sweet and slightly chocolaty against mine lips. I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I view wanders; I am unable to look at him or anything/anyone else for that matter.   
“Skye…” Jamie whispers, the music becomes turned up even further. Out of the corner of my eye I see almost everyone putting headphone on, giving Jamie and me a sense of privacy. “Skye I’m dying here… I know there is absolutely nothing I can say to make it all well again, but will you please give me another chance?” He raises his hand and caresses the line of my jaw gently, then wraps his hands around the crock of my neck, caressing it softly. I look at his blue eyes again, and immediately the magnetic field intensify by a thousand. The pure physical draw towards him is almost unbearable. I pick myself up mentally, withstanding it. I won’t give in. I am a civilised human being, not a wild hormonal beast!   
“Give me a reason.” I respond, his smell engulfing me. He smells like spearmint chewing gum, chocolate and sweat, dirt, people and life in general. He smells real, not like a fairytale prince made up by teenage girls. Under all the decipherable smells is the smell of pure Jamie. A smell which is indescribable, asking me to describe that is like asking someone to describe the colour of the wind, or to explain string theory. Almost - if not totally - impossible.   
“Because I love you, that’s why.” He blue eyes search my face, and lock with my own boring moss green pupils, “I can’t bear not being with you. I love you so much it hurt, I-“ his voice dims as he talks, until it in the end just ebbs out.   
“I don’t understand that... what you did, it’s too,-”   
“I know! I know what I did, and I have no idea what I was thinking at the time. It’s the biggest mistake of my life. You can make me do anything, say anything! Make me swear anything. Just please... Please, give me another chance...” He grips my hand and entangles his fingers with mine; if the hand around my neck wasn’t already spreading chills trough my whole body, this certainly did the job.   
“Jamie, I...” I mutter.  
His face is once again mere inches from my own, his nose right next to mine. If the car drives over a bump his lips will crash with mine, that is, how close he is.   
“Please, I love you,” he mumbles. He presses his forehead lightly against mine,”please, Skye.” His presence is making me dizzy, I can’t focus. I can barely think. My breath hitch. The world disappears. We’re sitting in golden rays from the setting sun behind Jamie, making his hair appear like a golden halo, he seems more godlike than he should. Especially, since he smells so extraordinarily human.   
I open my mouth to say something, but close it again. As I do he moves his face by an inch and kisses me gently two times with soft butterfly kisses.   
“Jamie, I need time. I don’t trust you anymore,” I mutter.  
“I know. I understand. All I am asking for is another chance.” he places another butterfly kiss on my lips. Unknowingly making my head spin out of control.   
“Jamie, I don’t know” I mumble against his lips.   
“I’ll prove to you how much I love you. You don’t need to know just yet. Just please let me try to prove to you that I am your Jamie, not James.” he kisses my softly again. He keeps doing it as if he might not get the chance again. He is so desperate, sweet and vulnerable that my heart breaks for breaks for him, despite all the bad stuff he has done.   
“Okay.” I mutter.   
“What?”   
“Okay.”   
“Okay what? I get another chance?” he asks disbelief in his voice.   
“Yeah, that’s what I am saying, isn’t it?” I say as a huge smile stretch across his face.   
“Really?” he asks grinning.   
“Yeah,” I mutter and then I place a soft kiss on his lips for the first time in weeks. And everybody in the car suddenly starts cheering.   
“You know I always shipped you guys!” Sheehan cheers, “Skymie for the win!” I swap him on the head. Then I tune them out and turn towards Jamie again.  
“But it is one chance only! And we’re gonna take it slow!” I say and he simply raises his eyebrow at me, like I have done so many a time, and we kiss again.   
“Who is up for drinking all night?!” Patrick cheers as he raises a bottle of rum I didn’t know he had. I snatch it from him and tip it, taking a big gulp of liquor.   
“I am,” I say as I hand Jamie the bottle and he tip it upward, gulping down the golden liquor. The he places his mouth on mine again, he tastes like booze but I don’t care.   
“Ready to get rowdy, Reap?” Jamie asks a happy grin plastered on his face. I am petrified no longer.


	14. midnight crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

Jamie and I stumble in the door of the flat Eve, Jorge and I share. But the others aren’t with us. They’re all in Patrick and Godfray and Jamie’s flat playing a game called ‘werewolf’, trying to get Eve lynched. Save the village from the murderous werewolf and all that, even though I know Eve is the elderly, but I couldn’t do much about it, since I myself had gotten killed by the werewolves. Whoever they are. Jamie had suffered the same fate. My plan of shouting about being the seer hadn’t worked out, since there is a 100 % chance for being killed by werewolves at night.  
Jamie and I had left the festivities - or more likely snug away - after a short while of hearing the others shout there heads of. We’re alone and currently back shit drunk, with no space what so ever between us. My thoughts are blurry and incoherent. I only notice Jamie and his body. This is probably not a good decision, but I didn’t care. The alcohol – which both Jamie and I had consumed during the drinking game is cursing trough my body, making the world spin in the best way possible.  
We’re stumbling towards my bedroom, tugging of our clothes in the process. Jamie is shirtless, his toned chest revealed. Working out for the show has done him more than well. He has become drool worthy. He rips my shirt over my head in one swift movement, before wrapping his arms around my and unclasping my bra. It drops to the ground. My skin is tingling as my bare breasts press against his hard chest. His hands are stranding the crock of my neck tenderly, my head droops back and he places sweet kisses down my throat.   
“I love you,” he mumbles against my throat, places a kiss once more before finishing the sentence, “so much.”   
“Please, don’t stop.” I sigh, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso. I am feeling hot all over.   
“Never.” he growls as he hooks his thumps around my shorts and tug them down so I stand only in my mint green panties. He takes a step back looking my up and down. Then another deep growl escapes his lips and he catches my lips with his own. We stumble into my bedroom; I flop down as the hollows of my knees hit the bed. Jamie stands for a second longer tugging off his pants. I spread my legs looking at him with a gaze I hope to god is sexy. His gaze become dark and filled with lust and a chill goes up my spine. Thanks god. I knew what he could do to me. How he could reduce me to a screaming panting hot mess. My thoughts are incoherent, out of place and have forgotten everything bad which have ever happened between Jamie and I.   
He jumps me, settling between my thighs and I lock my legs around his waist. He kisses me sweetly and I open my mouth, as he guides his tongue over my upper lip, asking for access. The kiss deepens and we both moan simultaneously. I guide my hands though his soft and rowdy hair, tugging at it pulling it back from his face.   
He grinds his hips into my core. His skin is hot against mine, and his hard length dry humping me, giving me a small taste of what awaits me. The smell of lust and sweat starts to emanate from both if us, filling the room. I can feel liquid pool in my undergarments. I need him, I needed him soon. Now.   
“Skye, are you sure you want to?” he mumbles against my lips as he trace open mouthed kisses down my throat. I go hot all over. I pull him up and kiss him deeply, making him moan. Involuntarily his lips jerk into me and I gasp at the violent sensations pulsing its way through me.   
“Yeah,” I mumble and he grins and kisses me more urgently.   
“I missed you so much,” he breathes against my neck. I grab his face and kiss him, not uttering one word. I have no idea what to say, so I do as my body tells me and kiss him, enjoy him body and his presence without thinking about what would or wouldn’t happen tomorrow. We can call this my midnight crash. Turns out I am a wild hormonal beast.   
I break from him and look into his magnetic sky blue eyes, I push back his long blond hair and he repeats my actions.   
“Why do you love me so much?” I ask quietly. His sent is so overpoweringly strong around me, that I feel almost go dizzy and forget my own question within seconds. And then there is the pressing feeling of his long hard length against my covered entrance. He is rather insistent.  
“I don’t know,” Jamie sighs, “I just.. do…” Jamie tone ebbs confusion. And I just nod and kiss him. It is an odd question to ask; why people love you. The normal answer is almost something cheesy like ‘you’re sweet’, followed by a long phrase reviewing my so called talents and attributes, like your smart funny, intelligent, kind, a good actor, singer person whatever. Even though I am probably none of those things. I am just me. Stupid old me - or as old as 22 goes.   
Jamie breaks from and trails kisses down my body to my chest, he holds himself up as he grasps both my breasts, canoodling them softly in his hands, before pressing his mouth to one of the tips. I inhale sharply, feeling ripples pleasure cascade through my body, all ending and throbbing in the same tiny concentrated spot in-between my thighs.   
My nipples go hard instantly, but Jamie keeps going. Sucking harder second by second, keeping it on thin line between pain and immense pleasure. Small moans escape me and I feel his long hair tickle the skin on my chest. I sigh in pleasure.   
He moves over to the other breast and gives it the same tenderly rough treatment. Then he comes back up to look at me again, places a long wet kiss on my lips. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the world spinning a little. He glides his warms hands down my body, making electricity spur from his touch, before hooking his fingers in the hem of my panties.   
“Can I?” he asks, his voice rough and filled with wanton.   
“Yes,” I whisper. I feel so safe with him; it is exactly as I remembered it. Maybe he hasn’t changed? I know, he would do nothing I haven’t approved of in the first place, in some way or the other. Like a loud heartfelt guttural moan is one way of saying ‘yes’ after all.   
He pulls my panties down my legs, gradually leaving my totally bare to his gaze. But I don’t feel exposed or ‘naked’, I feel free, like there is not one part of me he will dislike if he saw it. He sits up on his heels, lifts my legs up in the air and pulls of my panties the rest of the way. Then he lets them down on either side of his hips. He grins at me like I am a gazelle and he a hungry lion. He guides his hand up my inner thigh, and a more wetness seep from me in anticipation of what he’s about to do. He lowers himself onto his stomach in-between my legs and hooks one arm around my thigh, keeping the other one free.   
I avert my gaze to the sealing, letting the immense pleasure consume me.   
“Please,” I moan and Jamie complies, teasing my already wet entrance with his finger. He ran his finger up and down the slit, pressing a little as he nears my clit, spreading my juices. My hips start to jerk and Jamie takes hold of them with both hands to keep them down. Then he places his mouth of my throbbing clit, and my back bows off the bed and my toes curl. He sucks kisses and bites ever so softly my clit with his lips. Vibration convulse through my body violently.   
He sucks lightly on my clit for a long while, swirling his tongue around my clit. And then I feel his finger by my entrance, not yet entering. Slowly and carefully he glides one finger into me. Settling it inside me. Slowly he glides out again in an insanely slow pace. He glides slowly in and out for a while building speed slowly, making the pleasure build in my core. He adds another finger and yet another and the world slowly starts to spin as he jams his fingers into me. His sucking on my clit and the administrations of his fingers is almost too much already. My breath is raged, my body coated with sweet. Jamie is jamming two long fingers into me over and over and over again. I feel the build-up is close, I am panting, my body jerking. Then he suddenly out of the blue, he stops, just as I am about to tumble over the edge. I scream indignantly wanting the release more badly than I had anticipated.   
“Jamie!” I almost growl sitting up. Jamie is sitting back up, then he stands and tugs of his trousers, all in silence. My eyes don’t leave him for one second. He is standing back up again, stepping out of is underpants one leg after the other.  
I gulp. I don’t blush often, but I do now. His member already stood up proudly. Making his newly appeared V line even more visible. He did have that before…. his chest and stomach is toned, muscles defined and he looks strong and healthy – and very drunk.   
I leap at him, grapping his arm and swinging him onto the bed. Then it everything suddenly went very fast. He flops onto his back and I straddled his hips. I hear the crackling of wrapper and a bit of fumbling goes around in between our legs and then suddenly I am hovering over his proud member.   
Jamie sits up wrapping his arms around me as I glide down over his cock, feeling it filling me. a growls escapes Jamie and I moan. Our mouths meet in an open mouthed kiss, as I settle totally on Jamie’s cock. I grind on Jamie, and he grasps my hips guiding me down hard on his cock over and over again. Our limbs are entangle, sweaty panting, our minds on a lustful loop, going “more, more, more, more.”   
I feel the build in my core as we move together. Jamie grips my hips roughly, leans back and starts slamming into me from bellow. I strangled scream comes from my throat and I hold onto him for the life of me. Feeling myself almost become undone in his arms.   
“Jamie I’ gonna…” I moan.  
”Skye,” he growls as he picks up even more speed. Then he suddenly flip me off him, I land on my stomach as I suddenly feel him behind me, at my bottom. I crawl unto my hands and knees as he enters me from behind. He settles inside me. I feel him lean over me, kissing the crook of my neck, rocking his member slowly inside of me. I turn my head and he gives me a sloppy kiss, before kissing halfway down my back. Still rocking slowly inside my core, only hitting my sweet spot enough to drive me utterly mad.   
“Please just fuck me already,” I moan. I have been so close what feels like a million times, I need the release. Jamie responds my pulling all the way out and slamming into me hard. He leans down wrapping one arm around my torso lifting my upper body up towards his own. His one hand grips my breast, the other travels south, finding my clit, while he still slams into me from behind. I arch my back, giving his better access. his hand in between my legs the feeling of his ridged cock filling me over and over again, hitting my sweet spot over and over again.   
“Jamie,” I moan “please, if you stop, I’ll.” the sensation of his hot sweaty body against mine, his growling and panting against my ear. It’s all too much. I feel my core contract, but I am so close. I feel like screaming, but somehow I am walking just on that knife-edge unable to fall over it.   
“Jamie harder,” I mutter in a haze of lust, and he picks up even more speed gripping my body even tighter. Some he walks me over to the wall and starts fucking me hard against it.   
“Come, Skye.” he whispers in my ear, “come.” And then my body tightens for a blissful split second and I then, I become undone. I moan and growl, not feeling like swallowing any sound I might make. Jamie growls and slams into one last time. We stand like that up against the door locked, riding out the waves. Then we both fall backwards onto the big two person bed, Jamie slides out of me in the process. We pant, lying next to each other on the bed. I turn and wrap my around Jamie’s, and he takes me in his arms I kiss his jaw and he lift his head and places a short kiss on my lips. I feel myself drifting off to sleep quickly.   
“I love you, Skye. You have to believe that.” he whispers, but I am too far gone already. Sleep takes me away.   
Then I wake up in the car. All light is gone. It’s night.  
“Wake up, Skye.” Sheehan says, shaking my shoulder. Ready to rowdy... my arse... Ready to fall asleep and have naughty dreams..? Jup...


	15. |the sexy voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

I had told Jamie I will give him another chance, and I will! Honest! But as soon I hit the comforter of my own bed, I realise how damn hard that is going to be. He has done nothing to deserve it. Absolutely nothing. Well – that is if you didn’t count turning my head to mush and invading my dreams - then he had done nothing other than kissing me and promising me a pile of freaking gold – metaphorically speak of course, no one got a pile of gold. It isn’t fair that he can do that to me, reduce me to a puddle of teenage hormones in a matter of freaking fucking milliseconds. Actually, it sort of pisses me off. He said he loves me. Love… what the freaking fantastic fuck is that? Does it really exist in other places than books? Who freaking knows? We’re too busy looking for our next conquest to notice even it hits us smack in the face. For all I know, Jamie totally can be in mushy gushy love with me, but then again he can also totally be kidding both himself and me.   
He kissed another woman, and I knew that realisation isn’t going to pass anytime soon. In the car with is sent and personality all over me I hadn’t been able to think rationally. Not even the least. I had been too busy secretly gawking at his muscular arms and perfectly messy golden hair, to care much about anything. Because of one simple fact: I desire him. What? I did! And it gave me the biggest disadvantage on the planet. Because even though my heart is still aching from what he did. My cheeks are always red, my pupils forever pitch black and panties slightly dampened after being near him. This is of course an exaggeration, but you get my point. I have absolutely no idea how Jamie and I can ever be together again, after what he did. Other than maybe, with time. Until I stop hurting and maybe even move on, then maybe. But that involves getting to know someone else and I seriously don’t feel up for that.   
God... How could I have told him I could give him another chance? How could I have been so unbelievable stupid! I sigh heavily into my pillows, feeling the urge to scream, but no doing much about it, seeing as I – despite my unexpected lusty nap in the car – am exhausted. So I just lay there, my head pressed into my pillows, still fully clothed, before long sleep overcame me once again. And can you guess what , or should I say who I dreamt about?! That Bloody bastard… 

‘Lust is not the same as love, lust is not the same as love, lust is not the same as love,’ I recite the mantra in my head as I brush my teeth the next morning, looking at my tired reflection in the mirror. It has been a while since I have really looked at myself. I had been too caught up with training and moving to LA to really care about my appearance. I look like the same Skye as always. Curly cobber-red morning hair. Square face, annoyingly full lips, they remained too big for my face as always. Somewhat high cheekbones, I could thank my father for all that. Or that’s what my mother said. I believe her, since my mom had always dyed her hair blond - her natural hair colour being a mousy brown one - and naturally scolding blue eyes, seated over big chubby cheeks two great for her still small face. I look nothing like that, so I gathered I must look like my unknown father. I am happy about that. It gives me no ties to my mother what so ever, other than the blood running under my skin. O negative, same as my mother. I had found out when I was 11 and had fallen on my bike. I had crashed while hurling downhill at full speed. I hurt myself very badly, opening more wounds in my small body, than should be possible at my ages. I had even hurt my head and broken my arm in two places – just under the elbow and right at the wrist. It wouldn’t have been that bad, if someone just had been around to help me. I of course had passed out, seeing as I was an idiot and hadn’t worn a helmet. So two hours later someone had finally found me – somehow still alive – but there had been blood all over me, so much that I had needed a blood transfusion. Ever since then my blood type had just stuck in my head.   
My mother had stroked my cheek that night as I lay dosed in the hospital and said, “Our blood runs strong, little one.” It sounded like something from a medieval fantasy show like Game of thrones, but none the less my mother was and still is prone to say shitty family oriented shit like that. The next morning, I had asked her what her blood type was and since then I had known for sure.   
I snap back to reality where I still stand staring at my tired reflection. The only thing that has really changed is my eyes, which look sadder and more lifeless than ever. Or maybe it is just morning grogginess. Who knows?   
After staring at myself for a while, picking at a couple of zits, hopelessly trying to make them disappear, I hop in the shower to rub off the smell of old sweat and sticky crowded theme park. After using all too much time under the faucet I finally get out, dry myself off and walk into my room to get dressed. Blue jeans and a white tee shirt. Hair hanging around my face to dry naturally. Don’t tell me I never make myself look pretty! (That’s me being sarcastic)  
Then it suddenly hits me as I pour cereal into a bowl for breakfast. Tom! Oh my god! Then one second later I have another realization, we start shooting tomorrow! The two bombs hit me one after the other as my brain suddenly out of the blue start working again. First of all, how could I have forgotten that I had run away scream from one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors for a whole of four days! That must be a freaking record, I must I have Alzheimer’s or something. Normal people don’t forget shit like that. But then again my thoughts have been caught in the web of Jamie fucking, more than I care to admit.   
I need to fix one issue at a time, I decide. I need to apologize to Tom, what mustn’t he be thinking of me. After all he had been the perfect gentleman. He had done nothing wrong and then I had just run away like that, scream weird shit at him like a lunatic. I don’t remember the details anymore.   
After fixing my Tom issue I will move onto fixing my Jamie issue. Jamie will be working on stunts all day with Patrick and Evelyn, before the fight scene in the pandemonium and what not tomorrow. He can wait for now.   
I pick up my phone to dial Tom, only to realise; I don’t have his number… I sigh, putting my phone on the kitchen table before me. Merely to pick it up one second later, dialling my manager, Cassie Jones.   
“Cassie Jones speaking,” she says professionally as she picks up.   
“Hey Cassie, it’s Skye.”  
“Hey Skye? Is there a problem? Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be rehearsing your lines? Has something gone wrong?” she drones already expecting the worst. With my previous career, I don’t blame her.   
“No, nothing’s wrong,” I interrupt her, “I just need a tinsy favour…”   
“What Skye? What have you done?” she asks. She sounds like my mother, though nicer. Again I let it slide; it is not easy being my manager.   
“Well, do you know what’s being going on lately?” I ask.   
“Yes.” She just answers, like no explanation is needed.   
“About Jamie, me and ehm… Tom?” I ask, trying to get to the point, while making sure she knew what I am talking about. After all there is quite a lot going on lately.   
“Yes, I read the magazines Skye. Are there anything I need to know?” She asks; all business.   
“No, it’s just could you get me Tom’s number?” I ask and she sighs into the receiver. She didn’t waste time on asking me why I didn’t have it already or what I needed it for. She is my manager, not my girl friend. She tells she will get it for me within the hour, after telling me not to do something to once again jeopardize my career. I tell her I was fixing it and that is that. The line is dead.   
I get a text 34 minutes later containing ten small numbers. Tom’s number. I dial it immediately, even though it’s about 09.00 in the morning. I need to make sure there isn’t any bad blood between us.   
“Hallo?” a rich dark voice asks from the phone.  
“Hallo, is this Tom?” I ask.  
“Yes, this is him. Can I ask with whom I am speaking?” he tone is pleasant, nice, and so damn well-educated I might gag and swoon at the same time.   
“Oh, it’s Skye... We met a couple days ago. You help me out of ahhh,-“ I trail off. He helped me out of what?  
“As if I would forget you, Skye. It isn’t often women run away for me at the speed you did ” he carols at me happily, “are you all right?” he continues suddenly sounding worried, the change is so sudden I feel like I have trouble keeping pace “I was afraid you’d died in a ditch somewhere.”   
“I’m fine, thank you. Just had one hell of a night,” I calm him.  
“Yeah, I gathered as much, I hope you and your...” he trails of wanting me to finish the sentence for him. I just have no idea with what. Jamie isn’t my boyfriend, it would be too odd and uncomfortable for me to call him tha,t after the damage he has done, but then again he isn’t an ex either. So those two is out ruled. Can I get away with simply calling Jamie my friend? Well, right now I would have called him my ‘problem’, but that doesn’t seem like a socially acceptable label.   
“…friend.” I say.  
“Well, I hope you and you friend sorted things out?” he asks.   
“Yeah I think we did, we’re friends for now,” or giving it a try – or something, I actually am not sure. I won’t give him the label as my boyfriend – he doesn’t deserve that. Hell. I don’t deserve that after what he did.   
“That’s great to hear,” he says in his smooth, dark high voice, “and otherwise you’re okay? I heard you’re about to start shooting soon? That show.. what’s it called?”   
“’Shadowhunters’ now, the producers found a better name for it.. We start shooting tomorrow.” I tell him. I suddenly feel terrified. We start shooting tomorrow. TOMORROW! I know I can’t rehearse my lines any more than I have already done. But what if I forget them? What if I suck? Oh, dear god. The fans will kill me and eat me for supper. I am dead meat. Dead, I tell you! What the bloody hell am I doing here? I am a small time actress, not one of the Hollywood bigshots! Oh, crap! I suddenly desire nothing more than to be back at the small theatre in London, playing crappy plays night after night. That’s where I belonged. Not here.   
“You sound worried…” Tom half states, half asks.   
“Oh it’s nothing…” my voice suddenly become high pitched, “I am totally fine, you know? I am totally ready to be eaten alive by critics and the diehard fans. Totally ready…” my voice sounds more scared than I had intended it too, where the bloody fuck were sarcasm when you needed it? God… I could have talked to my friends about this, to Jane, Godfray, Rhys, anybody on the cast. But somehow I found it easier to talk to a complete stranger. Great… A famous stranger. Even greater! I’m a dumb fuck.   
“You’ll be fine,” he assures me in his deep way too sexy to be legal voice. He would be excelling at phone sex, just mentioning it...   
“Easy for you to say, you’re already parading around Hollywood like you own the damn place,” the worlds slip out before I even notice. A slam my hand over my mouth. Shit. Not the best thing to say to one of the world’s most famous people. I sure as hell must be a bloody genius!  
Tom chuckles deeply. The sound is sexy, nothing like Jamie’s laughter which is so filled with joy, you can’t help but break out in a fit with him. Tom’s laughter is different, deeper, like those dark moody guys from romance novels. Though he is nothing like the sort. Tom is a sexy extraordinarily English schoolboy. I will not be surprised if he had gone to Eaton.   
“Parading, Huh? That’s a new one.” He chuckles; I can hear the smile on his face. I huff bashfully, glad that he isn’t mad at me for boasting what could be deceived as a very hurtful comment to his character. He keeps talking, though his tone of voice changes, “you know Skye, if you’d like, I could help you? I know load of way of dealing with the sort of stress which comes this world, maybe I know something you don’t?” he sounds genuine and helpful. Like the true British gentle man everyone keeps swooning over. If I wasn’t so damn emotionally unstable, I would have jumped him already.   
“Ehhmm,” I mumble, not really knowing how to answer.   
“After all it does take its man to parade around Hollywood, as if you own the place,” he says in a teasing manner. I feel like he is trying to annoy me, without being obvious about it. Like I am not ‘man’ enough to own those Hollywood pricks! I had gotten the role, hadn’t I! But then again, I still hadn’t dealt with any sort of fans or press yet, so that would be easily said. I have no idea what I am doing in this place. I am too much of a coward to admit any of this to anyone in the cast. They all seem so confident. Like that know exactly how they will handle everything along the way. Hells, Jamie, Godfray and Robert (+others) already have dealt with it! I am the one who has the biggest character and in addition is the most screwed.   
I laugh at his cockiness and he chuckles shyly, like he somehow feels slightly ashamed of his comment, but then again proud, “Okay, I would like the help.” I admit.   
We make plans to meet in a couple of hours at a coffee place he knows. He gives me the address, makes some adorably lame jokes, before we both hang up. Afterwards I devour my breakfast in hungry slurps of cornflakes and milk.   
I use one hour in the gym and when I get home I spend the next 2 hours in my room drawing. I draw Jamie, twice. But for some reason it’s not quite right. The bone structure in his face just won’t turn out the right bloody way. In the end I get pissed, and tossed the project away for another day. Then I began drawing Tom, or what I would remember of him. He is quite similar to Jamie in some ways, but so entirely different in others. I draw Tom short, curly brown hair, his sharp nose, thin lips, strong jaw and hawk-like yet friendly eyes. All of it. The drawing turns out perfect.   
“Where you going?” Jorge shouts as he hears me unlock the front door to go meet up with Tom.  
“Just out!” I shout as I shut the door behind me, leaving the building in a hurry.


	16. A possible mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

Other girls would probably be extremely jealous of me, I reckon. Going to see the dashing mister Hiddleston at a little café must be a dream for hundreds if not thousands of girls. I am not jealous of me. Tom is Tom. Like Jamie is Jamie. They are human beings, not superstars. But I can’t help but feeling a little uneasy. He is after all Tom Hiddleston for fucks sake. No, he is Tom. Tom... Jamie... I feel like I am doing something I shouldn’t be. It’s not like this is a date. If it is illegal for me to see other guys casually – which means as friends – somebody must be soft in the head. This is not a date after all, I’ll be fine.   
Tom sits at the very back of the small café with his back to the front door, dark blue hood turned up against prying eyes. He has told me this over a text. And it turns out to be quite true. If he hadn’t told me I would not have known it was him. The coffee place is like any other in town, filled with wooden floors and furniture in warm red colours. The pleasant smell of coffee hovers in the air. I walk over and tap him on his shoulder.   
“Tom?” I ask as he turns a big smile on his face. He stands up to give me a hug warm hug, like we’re old friends and not just rescue buddies or something. I roll with it. People are pretty damn friendly here in Hollywood for some reason. Hugs and kisses all around! It just came with the territory it seems.   
“Hey Skye,” he say. If possible his damn voice is even sexier in person; the thing is practically dripping with testosterone for god’s sake. I have my arms wrapped around his neck; he has to crane down for me to do so. He is a little taller than Jamie, but he seems a lot bigger than him. Mostly because he doesn’t have the habit of slouching as Jamie does. Tom stands up tall, exactly like he owns the damn place. Who knew I could be so right without intending to? It seems, he does parade around town like he owns it.   
We sit down and the drowsiness of pleasant easy conversation takes over. No stress. No drama. He tells me about the scandalous life in Hollywood, and how it is absolutely crucial to go home once in a while, find ones roots again. We talk about our perspective theatre experiences. He has been a lot more successful in his life than I had been in mine. He actually has gone to Eaton. The best school in England for preppy self-centered young male specimen, though Tom hasn’t turned out nearly as bad as some of them.   
He also assures me, that a lot of the time it is the producer’s fault that the movie turns out the wrong way. Not the actors. The producers market the movie the wrong way. Pace the show the wrong way. Choose the wrong ending or deviates to far from the books, which most movies now a day are based upon. But at times the fans are narrow-minded enough to blame it on the cast, though they have done the best job they could under the circumstances. After all it isn’t just the actors making the pictures, there is a whole freaking crew of people behind it. The actors are just the faces. And on some level hearing him talk about it all, calms me. Like it isn’t all bad. But I am still shifting in my seat at the thought of tomorrow. The start of shooting. Oh dear god. I am not sure anyone can be as excited as I am. I feel like I am going to vomit with excitement.   
“We take off tomorrow...” I mutter, looking at my entwined hands on the table.   
“First big set?” he asks a crooked smile on his face.   
“Jup...”  
“ehehe, thought so, you look like a ghost. Don’t worry, you were hired for a reason after all” he smiles.   
“Yeah, but they could still be the wrong ones..” my voice is low and worried, just like I feel.   
“That’s their problem, not yours. You just have to focus on the task at hand.”   
“I reckon...” I mumble, still feeling uneasy. Tom reaches out taking hold on my hands with his big warm one, squeezing it lightly.   
“Hey, relax, and enjoy the ride, this is probably going to be the time of your life.” he sends me a small smile, still holding his strangely comforting warm hands over mine. I nod agreeing, and send him a small smile. He is right. This probably is the ride of my life and I should enjoy it, instead of being crippled by anxiety, that isn’t very helpful.   
After hours of talking we pay the bill and get up to leave. People have started noticing Tom, so we decided to leave while it is still all fun and games.   
“Where do you live?” he asks as we stand on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. It is rather windy, and cooler than it was yesterday. The sun hidden between big puffy clouds, making only small squares of blue visible. Both Tom and I are wearing a light wind jacket, closed against the unpleasant winds.   
“Just up the street,” I answer, “it’s a short walk from here.”  
He smiles, “I’ll follow you home, God knows old granny would get a fit if I didn’t.” His smile turns into a crooked grin. I slap his arm laughing, but nod falling in to place beside him, as we walk towards my flat. After a short while I notice the looks we’re getting from almost everyone around us. They’re noticing Tom I reckon. Some are glancing awkwardly at him, others downright staring not bothering covering up their astonishment. Few are look at me too, probably noticing me from the latest gossip evolving around Jamie, Tom and myself. I tried shrugging off the looks. It is unnerving to have that many strangers staring at you. I unconsciously set up the pace.   
“What are you sprinting from, Skye? You’re not going to run again, are you?” I hear Tom suddenly ask from a few steps behind me.   
“Oh, sorry,” I say setting my pace down to normal human speed again, settling in beside him. He chuckles shortly. “I am sorry for that night you know,” I say, suddenly realising I never properly apologized for my irrational behaviour that night, “it wasn’t fair to you. You were just trying to help.”   
“Don’t worry, Skye. You were practically out of you mind, I don’t hold anything against you.”  
“Thanks,” I mumble staring at the ground, “that night were bonkers,” I look up. People are still sending glares in our direction, I notice out of the corner of my eye. Tom notices me looking around at the by-passers.   
“I have seen them too,” he tells me, “but I can’t do much about them, but as long as no one approaches us we’ll be fine.”   
I nod. People didn’t stare when I was out with Jamie or the others. Or only very few did, at a rare occasion. This is something else.  
“Here we are,” I say as we stop in front of the flat. It’s a tall concrete building painted a fainted yellow colour, balconies all the way up at each flat.   
I take a step up the stairs to the street door, so I am – almost - in eyesight with Tom. He’s got a strong face, all sharp lines and icy blue eyes. He is actually a beautiful man. Tal, lean looking. Very attractive. He is not pretty the way models are, he looks interesting like he have secrets and maybe you’re worthy of knowing them. Okay, maybe beautiful is an overstatement, you have to know a person to call them beautiful. I had found Jamie beautiful before… yeah… let’s not go there.   
“Today was nice,” I say smiling. I meant it. It is so easy with him. Like water we always found a way of keeping the conversation alive, without having a battle of wit, which it seemed to me Jamie and I always had. It was nice for a change. Yet I feel guilty. I have roaring confusing lusty feelings for Jamie and maybe I love him too, but all of that is clouded my hurt and surely also bad judgement. None of that applies to Tom. He feels like a dreamy distraction for my problems at home, a nice good-looking one.   
“Yes, it really was. Who knew the girl you tackle can be so pleasant?” he jokes a glint in his blue eyes. I smile all of a sudden forgetting my worries in his too blue eyes.   
“Shut up,” I say playfully punching his shoulder, “I got back at you, didn’t I? Did your shoes ever turn out okay after that trip through the shrubbery?”   
A whole hearted laugh leaves him, “oh yeah, you owe me for those, now you mention it” he chuckles, moving closer. For some unknown reason I don’t move way, a habit I guess, “No seriously, today was lovely,” he continues with his deep rich voice, taking yet another step closer to me. I blush, I don’t usually do that. Not the blushing kind of girl, but I do oddly enough.   
“Yeah,” I mutter, suddenly the scent of him hits me. Is he really that close? He smells like lemons and coffee, from the place we have just left. So clean. His body seems to be radiating warmth, so inviting. Then suddenly in one smooth motion he takes the hold of my face with his hand and delicately presses his lips to mine.  
What? Why? Aaahh, that’s a damn good kiss. Guilt, Jamie. Anger. Confusion.   
His lips press softly against mine, but I stay still, not knowing whether to kiss him back or push ham away. My situation with Jamie is still fucked in my mind, though it might not be so for Jamie. Still I feel like I am cheating. But I am not officially with anyone. I just have this guy head over heels in love with me, who would die if he found out. Oh no... Somehow I had forgotten the people around us, the ones who knows Tom and who he is to the world. Fuck.   
“Tom,” I mumble against his lips, pushing him lightly away. I sound sad as I say, ”I’m sorry, I can’t.” I want to kiss him for some reason, but I won’t. Not now, while Jamie thinks I am ready to give us another chance. I am not ready for that again. I can’t do that to him. I can’t do to him, what he did to me. We need to be over, before I can act on my newly developed teenage hormones. I know I am stupid and probably shouldn’t have gone to see Tom, but I had just wanted to be next to someone who for now is uncomplicated, a sweet distraction.   
“No, it’s me who should apologize, kissing you like that… It was very ungallant of me,” he says, like true gentleman. That didn’t help. It just made me want to snug him even more. For fucks sake. In a split second my mind developed the idea of threesome with this tall curly haired man in front of me and Jamie who still has me in the palm of his hand in that way. Let’s just say if Jamie pressed me up against a door saying “I want to fuck you senseless,” I probably wouldn’t resist. My mind went wild and my blood pressure doubled. Oh dear god not now!   
“No don’t be, how can you know if I wanted to kiss you or not,” I say shortly, trying not to scare him off totally. He is nice and handsome – understatement, he is fucking gorgeous and like Jamie I want to fuck his brains out. Okay, Skye stop with the sex or I will whoop your arse’ I scold myself internally. I feel like hitting my head against the wall as the newly developed threesome played for my inner eye once again. Brain. Hormones. Stop. Now……… I SAID NOW!  
“I could have asked you,” he states a sad smile on his lips, “No matter. I’m sorry.”  
“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault,” I reassure him.   
“Can I ask why..?” he asks in a confused voice. It is a fair question I realise.   
“I have some... issues... I need to sort out, before I can...” I wave my arms around trying to form coherent sentences. He nods as if he understands, looking down.   
“See you around?” I ask quietly.   
“Always,” He says, giving me hug, inclosing me in his arms, before guiding his hands down my arm to squeeze my hand. Then he gives me a short smile and starts trotting down the street. I turn, charging up into the flat. I needed to give myself the relief I so obviously need.


	17. Can’t take the ache from heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

Nah, don't worry body. It's cool. I mean, I love waking up at six. Just love it! I swing my heavy legs out of bed with a heavy sigh. Training yesterday had been hard. The trainer – or senpai as he preferres - had whipped us through stunts and countless martial arts at a pace I am pretty sure only Superman can endure. We had been there till late, discussing the different scenes and what we should do, the things we should change and all of that.   
I growl as I hall myself out of the bed, I should be at the set in an hour. I shower and tug on the loosest shorts and tee shirt around. Then I hall my sorry arse out in the kitchen – which is exactly the same as the one across the hall at Skye’s and the others flat - where I make myself the most boring breakfast of all time. Oatmeal.   
I sit gulping down the pasty sticky boringly grey mess, as I grab the laptop, flipping up the screen. It becomes a live within a couple of seconds already logged onto twitter, where I had left it a couple days ago. I refresh the page. And.   
My heart plummets.   
I am tagged in numerous photos, all from different angels and varying quality. But they all show the same devastating thing.   
Skye kissing Tom Hiddleston on the curb to our flat. Her hands hanging down by her sides, Tom’s hand resting on her jaw, his mouth pressed to hers. My heart beat heavily in my chest, I feel like I am suffocation.   
I refresh the page, just to make sure it isn’t some hoax or wicked dream. Still the same. I scroll down. More and more pictures come up, the captions write.   
“Just thought you should know.”  
“Are you okay?”  
“soo are you still dating or did something happen?oh yeah, sorry”  
“Should I kill her?”   
And countless others. I read them franticly, trying to find the original one. Trying – no, praying this some sick joke. I had been head over heels after Skye had told me she would try again, and then she went and did this… I can - I can’t understand-  
I slam the computer shot and stomp out the hall, charging towards the other flat right across the hall furiously. I’m going to do what I did wrong the last time. I am going to confront her about it. She needs to have an explanation for this. She needs to.   
I slam open the door to their flat.   
“SKYE!” I shout as loud as I can. It is dead silent. There is no shuffling of morning steps, no echoing sound of running water. Nothing. They have already left. Without locking their door it seems, but they’re gone.   
With my blood boiling I stamp back to my own flat – while slamming the door shut in the process - to put one some shoes, before hurrying to set. Furious and a little late.   
***  
My heart beat’s so quickly I think it’s going to burst. My skin feels hot and I feel like an ocean is hitting upon a pay right besides my ear.   
I need an explanation. I need the misery to end. I need to hit something, anything. I practically storm into the set, seeing the high lofted ceilings, wires hanging like snakes and people running swiftly around me. I take no notice. I am searching for cobber red hair and green eyes. I am searching for the biggest hypocrite on the face of the earth.   
I head directly for the pandemonium set where I see her, chatting closely with Sheehan. But before I have any chance of even shouting her name and am scurried off by a hoard of makeup artists. You have got to be fucking kidding me.   
As soon as the makeup artist declares me for finished. I charge out of the crowded trailer, turning over my stool in the process.   
I see her again, her red hair bouncing innocently, still chatting intensely with Sheehan. What she is shagging him too?   
“Skye!” I shout, but my voice is muffled by a clatter of iron hitting the ground cement ground, and the buzzing of people.   
Then suddenly someone grabs my shoulder, “ Jamie, stop screaming for no reason,” I stare it’s the director, “ we’re running late, so get ready. We start in one minute.”   
I look like a shadowhunter, all runed up. Hair on point. Black clothes and all seraph blades in their designated holsters. I feel like screaming. Screaming and shouting at Skye. I look around everything is buzzing. I try to get to Skye, but find my way blocked by ladder-carries and crew people with ridiculously long props every time. Could they just stop for a second and let me pass?!  
And before I know it I hear the director shout.   
“ACTION!” everything went dead quite. Patrick stands beside me as Alec, his dark brown hair now coloured ink black. Evelyn on the other side, long black hanging down her back, white dress and 7 inch stiletto boots, Isabelle.   
Skye in front of me as clary. Red curly hair. Printed tee shirt. Loose jeans. A jacket and combat boots. She looks so innocent. It makes my temper flare hot.   
From a distant place I hear Patrick say is first line. I know I need to say something, but I can’t for the life of me remember what. All I want to do is yell at Skye. Then suddenly she stares at me. I know I need to say something now.   
“CUT!” the director shouts, “Jamie, what the hell is up with you?” he didn’t wait for my answer, “Get it together. We go again in 3. 2. 1. ACTION!”   
I get though the first couple lines with gritted teeth, my jaw clenching violently, glaring at Skye.   
“CUT!” the director hollers again, “everybody take 30 minutes. Jamie, get it together, you’re looking at Skye as if you want to kill her. Sort it out!” that is how his order sounds. And I follow suit. Thank you, mister.  
I charge Skye gripping her wrist violently, dragging her with me. As much as I hate her, I will not have this conversation in public.   
“Jamie, where are we going? What’s going on-? Why are-?” she asks in a confused tone. I stop at a dark deserted corner turning swiftly to face her. I control myself, not to start shouting. Her eyes are big in confusion, her eyebrows scrunched together in wonderment.   
“What’s going on?!” I start, ”I thought you could tell me! Did you really think shit like that stays hidden?” her face goes slack, her eyes wide.  
“I didn’t-“  
“You didn’t what? Kiss the guy?” I bellow in disbelief, not letting her get another lying cheating word out, “This time you can’t possibly claim that? There are pictures all over twitter with you pressed against mister Hollywood fuck face! You can’t possible want me to believe it was an accident? That he fell on your face as he leant forward? Seriously, Skye?!”   
“Jamie,-“ she began in a small voice, but I cut her off.  
“No Skye listen. You’re the biggest hypocrite I have ever met! You see me kissing someone else and pester me to death for it. But then you go right ahead and do the same fucking thing at the first given opportunity!” I am staring down at her angrily. My face heated and my blood boiling.   
She sinks back against the wall behind her, closing her eyes a pained look in her face. When she opens her eyes again they’re full of tears.   
“You’re absolutely right.” She quacks, whipping away an escaping tear, “I am the biggest hypocrite in the world. I am stupid and idiotic and naïve and unable to see what’s right in front of me.” She sniffs, looking at me through her dark lashes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I hoped we could get through the first day off shooting without any,- “ she gulps, “and then I would have told you what happened, but obviously…” she lifts her hand, indicating to our current predicament. I already knew. The cat is out of the bag. “I sorry Jamie... I don’t deserve you… I know that… I am just as fucked up as you, only I am thousand times worse.” She blinks at the ground. My heart stands still. I don’t know how to react. I had expected her to shout back, to tell me I was wrong and that she would never do such a thing, but there she is telling me my worst nightmare. ON some level I must have believed it was a sick lie, photoshopped by Hollywood. But it was true.   
She is breathing in ragged breathes, the way you do when you’re crying. My anger starts crumbling away, leaving only fragile hurt behind.   
“Telling you I would give it another shot, was a mistake,” She mumbles, and I can’t take it anymore. Silent tears start rolling down my cheek. I am should be flaringly angry, yet here I stand crying like a bloody baby. I cry because for some fucked up reason I can’t possibly fathom I still love her. I realise this is how she must have felt after my rampage, and at the back of my mind I know why she acted like she did. I understood it. “And I’m sorry.“ she goes on, looking up at me again, ”I care for you so much, but you just kept telling me you loved me over and over again and I just couldn’t…” - say it back, I finish the sentence in my head. I had told her so many times it had went into a blur for me, but for the first time I realise she had never - not even once - said it back to me. My heart is beating slow and heavy, as I look at the tears slowly inching down her cheeks. I feel like I am about to choke.  
“Did you ever love me?” I croak, more unwanted tears welling up in my eyes, gliding down my cheeks. I have given up on stopping them, if I first started crying I was unable to stop it. I just have to cry.   
“I don’t know…” her voice almost a whisper, “how can I know?”  
I stare at her. How can I know? Well – pretty easy - you feel it!   
“Okay.” I just say hardly, “so you never loved me, ever?” I ask again, changing the question. I need to hear her say it, for it to be over. For me to move on.   
“Jamie I can’t-“ she makes a choke like sound, more tears cascades down her cheeks and she blinks, “I just couldn’t I- I could understand anything. I wanted you,-“ then suddenly she corrects herself in way I thought she wouldn’t have, “No, I want you so badly, I think my body is playing tricks on me. I have no idea when the physical desire stops and the real one begin.”   
My anger is gone, leaving me drained. Skye suddenly slid down the wall she is leaning against and started clutching her knees to her chest. I sat down next to her. The silent stretched on. I don’t know what to answer. What I could possibly answer. She wants me, just not exactly the way I want her. I could scream at her, but then she’d probably only cry more and I couldn’t stand that, I knew it would only make me cry more. And I didn’t want that.   
“I didn’t kiss him back.” She suddenly mutters, we had both stopped crying after a while suddenly feeling drained. I grunt disbelievingly.  
“He kissed me, not the other way around.” She says.   
“Why were you out with him in the first place?” my voice is tired and hurt.   
“He was nice and he… offered to help me deal with all of this,” she lift her hear towards the ceiling, indication to the room, “I was – am terrified of this whole TV thing and he offered to help me out. To listen and...”  
“Why didn’t you just come to me?!” I interrupt her in louder voice.   
She looks at me “all of you just seem so cool about the whole thing! Admitting I was terrified was – and still to some extent is – out of the question!”  
“I could have listened and you know that!” I tell her, why would she just have come to me?!  
“I don’t know Jamie! It just did seem like a good idea at the time,” she says.  
And going on a date with Tom Hiddleston did seem like a good idea?!” I exclaim in disbelief.  
“I didn’t realise he thought it was I date, till he kissed me!” she bellows back.  
I make a gaging sound. I don’t believe that for a second, but I stay silent. My heart is burning, every heartbeat echoing through my chest.   
“But I forgot to tell him about our agreement, so I suppose that’s just as bad.” She mutters, staring blankly up at the high ceiling. I huff. Yeah it’s just as bad.  
“How did you forgive me for what I did?” I ask, suddenly needing to know, to know if the pain could go away.   
“I didn’t.” she confesses, and I tip my head to look at her.  
“Then why did you agree to..?” – giving me a second chance, I ask confused, she sighs heavily.   
“Desire.” She says it so neutrally, I am not even sure she actually said it.   
“Desire?” I echo in confusion.   
“You were all over me… and you…” she gulps down, as if picking herself up to what she is about to say, “got you influence.”  
It isn’t everyday day a girl admits she desires you to the point of oblivion. I don’t know what to say. If there is anything to say. So instead I do. I do the only thing I know how at this point. I twist my body around and take hold of her face with one hand and pressing her lips to mine desperately, putting all of my still bottled anger and hurt into the kiss. She twitch in surprise when I first hit her lips, but a couple seconds later she regains herself and presses her lips to mine with just as vigour. It’s not a kiss of love, it’s hot and violent and desperate, with few silent tears cascading silently down both our cheeks. It’s a kiss goodbye.   
Suddenly madness takes over. I press my tongue against her lips, wanting entrance and she willingly opens her mouth, deepening the kiss with a low moan. She is already tugging at my hair and neck, drawing my closer and closer to her small body. We’re lost, lost in the hurt we both know and dwell under.   
My tongue is in a sword fight with hers, our mouths twisted hard together. With my weight I press her down onto the floor, somehow settling between her legs. She growls as I press already hard cock into her core, giving her a small teste of what awaits her.   
The suddenly she pressing upwards towards me and begin kissing down my neck while mumbling, “the room behind you.” I look behind me and see an open storage room. Boxes and what not stored inside. It will do.   
A couple second later I have her pressed against the inside of the door. Her head back, sucking fiercely on her neck. She will have a mark. She trails her arms to my chest to unbutton my gear in frantic movements.  
No words are uttered as we rip each other out of the others clothes, throwing it to the ground, till we stand in front of each other totally naked, my cock already erect and ready to fuck her to no avail.  
I let my eyes run greedily over her body, the full breasts with their rosy hard nibbles, the hard stomach and her cunt with a small tuff and dark red hair. My breathing goes ragged, strained with wanton. I feel her looking at me with just as much lust in her pitch black eyes. They shine with lust so unclouded I don’t doubt for one second what she wants. And I’ll give it to her. I’ll fuck her till she can’t stand.  
I charge towards her pressing her against the door, before gripping her legs lifting them to my waist. While still holding her up with my arms, I grind my cock against her slit, hitting her clit in the process. She whimpers against my neck, clinging to my body. I stop instantaneously.   
“Is this what you wanted?” I ask, I grind once more against her and I feel her shake against me, already slick with wanton. She sucks wet kissing right under my ear before she takes my earlobe in between her teeth muttering a simple ragged ‘yes.’ I grind hard against her again and she moans and whimpers at each stroke, meeting my as best she can.   
I feel her juices already coaxing my cock, as I stroke it between her wet folds till I hear her breathing go stained. She locks her legs around my waist, which gives me the freedom to grab her arse. I grind even harder against her slit. My head buried in her neck, biting and sucking at her, like I had never done before. Like an animal finally released.   
“Please, just fuck me already,” she growls, trying to avert herself, so I would enter her. For some reason I become angry, she is not the one in charge. I am.   
I clasp her legs, tugging them off me, telling her, “stand”. She does so without complaint, but she barely touches the ground with both feet before I grip her tightly hair, she moans as I push her down. “Kneel,” I command and she does looking up at me with nothing but pure raging wanton in her dark eyes.   
“Suck it,” I order and she instantly grasps my cock at the base. Still with the hand in her hair I guide her mouth towards my cock and she opens up eagerly. Her one hand grips my hip the other holds onto the base of my cock, as she engulfs as much of me as she possibly can. I hear her gag and choke on me, still running her tongue over my stiff length like a child with a lollypop. I remove my hand. She comes off with and audible wet hot plop, inhaling sharply.   
I don’t even need to give her the next order, because a second later she swallows my cock in her wet hot mouth again. I soon become too busy taking in the sight of her all wet and hot with my pre-come running down chin. She leaps at my cock, sucking on it as if to no avail. I feel my body go rigid, suddenly feeling the need to lean against the door as a grunt escapes me. This only increases her sucking and blissful gaging on my cock. Before I even get to think twice about what to do next I am there. And she knows, in a second she needles my balls in her hand while sucking, sending me tumbling over the edge. If I’d known it would be so fast I would have warned her, but to my surprise she latches onto my cock taking all of my semen in her mouth. It’s so hot I think I will never go soft again.   
When I am done, I don’t take my time. I rip her up from the ground, press her against the door again, before sitting down and lifting both her legs over my shoulder, I position my mouth at her dripping cunt. She screams in surprise and her hand goes to my hair for balance. I press myself against her, going directly to her slick swollen clit, slicking over it with small precise strokes, knowing I am sending ripples of pure through her body. She moans in ecstasy her neck craned back, her thighs pressing around my head. One of her hands leaves my hair to grasp a full breast, twisting the nibble in between her small finger.   
I suddenly realise she is close, so I break from her and say, “don’t come until I say you’re allowed.” Her face snaps to mine in between her legs, “or I’ll stop.” Her face goes from disbelief to pleading within seconds. And she gulps, “yes.” Then I attack her cunt again. Slicking, sucking and humming against her clit. I feel her shake, but I know she hasn’t come yet. Her hips jerk and I find myself grateful for the previous weeks training, otherwise I would never be able to hold her up as easily as I do now.   
“Please, fuck me.” She whimpers in the sexiest way I can possibly imagine and I feel myself going hard once again. I leap at her cunt, her hand twisting in my hair, her core straining not to grind my face.  
“Jamie, Please!” she whimpers. I lap at her a couple seconds more till I can feel it’s too much for her, I give the short command she is desperately waiting for, “come!” and then I quickly place my tongue over her swollen clit again, sucking and humming at the same time. She instantly starts to trembles and spasm, riding out the waves of pleasure coming over her. She had really been holding herself back.   
I let down her legs, and she collapses against me on the ground, resting her warm sleek body against mine. She is slack and drained from her orgasm, still trembling slightly, and I haven’t even entered her yet.   
“Oh my god,” she whispers out of breath as she begin kissing as if in a fever, attacking my neck, my cheeks, my mouth, my nose, my forehead with wet kisses. I wrap my arms tightly around her giving her a little time to recover from her high, kissing her back with open mouthed eager kisses. I sit with my legs folded under me, her stranding me. She presses lightly against my cock, we sit like this for while kissing and running our hands over each other’s bodies, electric currents vibrating through our spines at each other’s touch.   
I guide her to lie on her back, her legs spread wide for me to admire her. I look down and take hold of my cock, then with the tip I slide it up her slit once without entering. I feel her whimper and twitch, and if possible I feel myself go even harder, as she grasps her breast pushing them together.   
“Tell me to fuck you, Skye,” I lean down so my mouth is right at her ear, “tell me to fuck you senseless.” I growl with a deep voice, I didn’t even know I possessed.   
And she answers right way, “please fuck me se –“ she doesn’t got the chance to utter another word, right at that second I plunge my cock into her in one hard motion. Her back bows off the cement floor and a strangled scream escapes her. I feel her wetness enclose and ripple around me, drawing a groan from my throat. Before she knows what hit her, I pull all the way out again only plunging roughly back in. She wraps her arms around my back, tugging me towards her, meeting evey one of my trusts with one of her own. Her hands then travel down my bag to take hold of my arse, driving me harder and faster into her. I let her have it as she wants, in hard rapid thrusts. My cock filling her over and over again, drawing screams from her mouth I muffle with open mouthed kisses. Her breast bounce under me and our sweat coaxed skin clasp together. I kiss up and down her neck, feeling her moan in my ear, her warm breath tingles my shoulder.   
She suddenly twists us around so she is straddling me, slowly gliding down. I left my head seeing my cock slip into her wetness, till she settles with blissful sigh. She starts up slowly sliding down on me almost unbearably slow, not allowing me to thrust up into me. Each time I try she puts her hand on my chest and sits down on my cock hard, giving me a stern look. She slowly builds her speed and before long she is riding me hard, grinding down on my cock over and over again, as her breathing comes out in small ecstatic moans. My hand clutches her arse to guide her down onto me, but I find that she needs no help. She sighs and moans, her eyes closed, her palms cupping and squeezing her bouncing breasts. I sit up taking a nibble in my mouth, sucking and biting it, and it goes hard. She sets up her pace, her cunt clenching around my cock. Close to oblivion. Hunting down the explosion ahead. I strain myself not to lose it before her. I want her to scream.   
She is even closer than I thought, because before I know it she mutters, “Jamie, I’m gonna...” In one swift movement I wrap my arms around her, pulling her down so she is horizontal against my glistening chest. I bend my legs and lift my hips. Then I begin thrusting rapidly up into her dripping wet cunt. Hard and relentlessly, making strangled screams escape her lips. The smell of sex and sweat hang in the air as I inhale. The sound of my balls slapping against her arse sound through the room, mixed with our shameless moans and grunts. The wet sound of my cock slipping in and out of her swollen cunt vibrates against the walls. Her bits my shoulder, trying to hold in her cries as she rapidly nears her orgasm. I remove her mouth from my shoulder and kiss her with open mouth, our tongues in a battle to the death. Her body suddenly lock against mine, her hips jerking slightly. She clings to me as she whimpers and moans into my mouth, tides of pleasure taking up her whole world. Having no control over her body as I settle my cock deep inside of her wetness, feeling her walls clench around me and I come hard and unstrained inside of her. We cling to each other’s bodies, shaking together in a mix of sweaty limbs and strangled whimpers and grunts. Sex in its most primal animalistic form. And as we come down from our high still connected, I know we’re over.


	18. Calls from home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

“Holy sugar hoops… you have got to be kidding me right?” Brad says in disbelieve. It’s the day after me and Jamie’s hustle in the storage room, which for some unknown reason went unnoticed. Something had gone wrong with the smoke machines and the filming had run even later than it already was. We had been gone for a whole hour, but only Patrick had seemed to notice. He had kept staring at my smudgy makeup and obvious sex hair. Jamie’s destroyed tattoos I thought would be a dead giveaway, but no one said a word. The makeup artists had thought I had been crying due of anxiety, and had kindly done my makeup again. I hadn’t corrected them, just nodded like a sad lamb. The rest of the day, Jamie and I had done our job, running on what I assume must have been remaining sexual tension and nostalgia of times lost forever. But we hadn’t spoken a word since, that hadn’t been a line.   
I have just told Brad of all of this over Skype, including Jamie’s and my own de-trip with other partners on our lips, which had coursed it all.  
“Do I look like I am kidding?” I ask in a small voice. Brad lets out a heave breath of air.   
“You kissed Tom fucking Hiddleston? While with Jamie and then you proceeded to shag-“   
“Ssshh, and no I didn’t kiss Tom Hiddleston, he kissed me, I just…” my voice go all squeaky,” sort of let it happen...and just for the record I wasn’t with Jamie. Not really. I had only told him I could give it a try…”  
Brad cut me off, “and Jamie found out and then you guys had good ol’ break up sex?” I shrug, yes. Brad can see me through the webcam. I am sitting in my room, away from the others. I had sort of hidden myself away after what happed yesterday. We have gotten the whole day off, since the set still isn’t working properly for whatever reason.   
Brad is sitting in the living room of the flat at home; I can see the paintings we have done on the wall behind him.   
“You’re unbelievable Scarlett!” Brad exclaims, “What are you going to do?”   
“Dunno” we’re silent for a while, me thinking of my seriously fucked up life, Brad probably happy it isn’t him.   
“Still think you have a shot with Hiddleston?” he asks breaking the silence and I shoot him the dirtiest look I can muster. He is grinning from ear to ear.   
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to drag him further into my mess at the moment.” I tell Brad in a dry voice.   
“No you misunderstand me,” Brad interrupts, “I just want to be able to say my friend fucked Tom Hiddleston.” I gasp in disbelieve. He has got to be kidding… which he is…   
“You can already say she got kissed by him!” I exclaim, “Isn’t that enough?”  
“No, not the same,” he states shaking his head tousled reddish hair.   
“Seriously Brad, what am I supposed to do about Jamie?”   
“What do you want to do?” he echoes my question   
“What I did yesterday…” I mutter in a small shy voice.  
“SCARLETT MOIRA DELANEY, quite your teenage hormones this instant!” Brad exclaim using my ever so hidden middle name. It was being reserved for times like this one.   
“Seriously Brad I’ve tried nothing like it!”   
“What? It was so hot and sweet you burst and started shooting rainbows out your arse or somethen’?”   
I laugh, “No, he pretty much took me as a hound takes a bitch.”   
“WHAT?” he exclaim at the filthy images my statement develops.  
“Like a hound ta-“  
“No I heard you just fine! Did he rape you?!” Brad asks suddenly sounding worried.  
My eyebrow scurried together, my voice confused, “No? Where do you get that?”  
“But you just said..?” Brad mutters.  
“Ever heard of the book ‘50 of shades of Grey’?” I ask already knowing the answer. He is already overly excited for the movie release next year. He has already declared it the definitively hottest book of all time. He looks down at his lap, giving me all the answer I need.  
“It was like that.” I inform him.  
“He tied you up?” Brad whisper in disbelief.   
“No.. Brad, you blasted moron.. He just told me what I could and could not do a little!”  
“And you were fine with that?”  
“Trust me, you would be too, the way he said it,” I admit my voice low, the way you tell a dirty secret to a friend.   
“That hot?  
“That hot.” I agree putting pressure on the first syllable.   
“So now you just want to fuck him all the time?” he asks.  
“Wouldn’t you?”   
“That wasn’t the question Scarlett. You have gotten more issues in – what? How long have you been there? 2 – 3 weeks, than I have got in my whole sorry life!”   
“That’s because you never go outside.”  
“Beside the point!” He says pointing a finger at his screen, “do you even want to be with Jamie, like at all?”  
“I want to be under him for sure,” I joke half-heartedly.  
“Scarlett seriously… you have to work with him for ages to come… and you’re already starting to build yourself a bit of a reputation.”  
“What do you mean?”   
“Well… ehm…” he collects himself, “a diverse range of gossip magazine is carrying you’re picture, both the ones at that party last week and the one of you kissing Tom, with the title…” Suddenly Brad trails of.  
“What title?” I ask  
“It’s harsh, sure you want to know?”   
“Tell me.”  
He gulps to clear is throat, “Hollywood’s new up an’ coming whore,” he sighs ,”’Hollywood’s new gold digger’, ‘the she wolf of Hollywood’s dearest’, ‘The heartbreaker of Brits’, ‘small time girl, big time men’.”  
“Give me the link to one of them,” I say in a hard voice, a lump have formed in my throat.   
“You okay Scarlett?” he asks.   
“No, isn’t there anything good about me?”  
“Dunno, those were the first ones when I did a google search on your name.” he tells me and I go on google typing in my name: Skye Delaney.  
They instantly pop up, all those Brad have just told be about and more. I click the first one.   
The heartbreaker of Brits  
This up and coming actress is prone to hang around the neck of our dearest men. Giving out kisses to any celeb for her wake. We of course are talking about the new star Skye Delaney, the lead of the new show ‘shadowhunter’.  
Who doesn’t want a hot British celeb by their side at all time? I wouldn’t be the one to complain, I tell you that. But out little Skye has taken it a bit too far, don’t you think?  
She was first spotted parading around town with her co – actor Jamie Campbell Bower, kissing and hugging like the cute couples we so adore. But it didn’t last long.  
Under that there is a picture of Jamie and me from the first week in LA. Back when everything was good. We were standing in front of a Starbucks, our hands entwined and I stood on my tiptoes to kiss Jamie. He was leaning down smiling. It makes my heart ache with longing. What had happened?   
Now she is singing quite a different tone. Being spotted at a Hollywood party having an argument with none else but her beloved Jamie, until the dark mysterious stranger interrupts the couple’s loud yells. The stranger being the always dashing as we know him, Tom Hiddleston. Witnesses report that Tom and Skye have been seen disappearing into various room of the house before the fight of star cross lovers Jace and Clary (the names of Skye’s and Jamie’s respective roles on ‘shadowhunter) commenced. Can’t keep you’re self to one man Skye? gotta catch them all, as they say.   
Several pictures from the party are shown. I gulp.   
There is definitely something stirring under the surfs. Tom and Skye were last seen a couple days ago on the street, in a warm embrace, tenderly kissing each other. Are they together? Or are they just each other’s side-biscuit? – Reserving dinner and desert for someone else. Neither Tom nor Skye have confirmed any of the rumours.   
The pictures of me and Tom are shown. ‘Warm embrace? Tenderly kissing?’ it was one fucking kiss and then I pushed him away. ‘Tenderly kissing’ my bare arse.   
But there is even more to this juicy story, our promiscuous Skye have also been spotted with her co- star Robert Sheehan, after the party. Allegedly spending whole days at the beach together. Maybe that’s a story for another time? Watch where you’re headed little S.   
I stopped reading. It all sounded like gossip pouring directly from the show ‘gossip girl’ to my screen. Promiscuous? Again, warm embrace and tenderly kissing? And the so called rumour about Sheehan was just down right wrong. But I had to give them one thing, they portrayed me exactly like the bitched I felt like. They’re uncomfortably close to the truth for my liking.   
I regret not pushing Tom away sooner. I didn’t stand a chance with Jamie any longer. He is gone, out of my reach. I know that. I have had him for the last time, yesterday.   
“You okay?” Brad asks.  
“Don’t know…” I mutter staring blankly at the screen.  
“Something I can do?” Brad asks, 4 years of friend ship doesn’t just disappear when you do the stupidest thing of your life. It sticks.   
“Can you make a time machine maybe?” I ask, rubbing my hand over my face. I am exhausted and I am aching all over from what happened yesterday.   
“Sorry… I don’t have that sort of… expertise…” After a few mintues Brad asks, “what happened to you two? I know the story, I just don’t.. get why..?”   
“Hollywood sucks.” I just say.  
“Scarlett, you make no sense…”  
I sight, “Jamie thought I kissed Tom and he kissed someone, but then suddenly I doubted whether I loved him or not,-“  
“Do you still doubt it?” he shoots in, going directly to the core of my issues.  
I shrug, I don’t know.   
“He is not Brendon, you know?” The memory of my long forgotten ex emerges from my memories and I frown. It is inevitable; I’ll forever be destined for that sort of guy. The same charade over and over again till I die. Problem being I just kept falling flat on my arse for them. Not very helpful.   
“That’s what Jane said,” I tell Brad, remembering my short talk in the vane with Jane, it seemed ages ago, truth what it was only weeks.   
“Well she is right.”   
“It doesn’t matter anymore.. Jamie is out of my reach. What I did is unforgiveable,-“ I say, but my next words are cut off.   
“Yeah, you screwed up royally. But nothing is unforgiveable Scarlett. Not with time. People forgive others from murdering their parents or chil-“   
“I would thank someone too if they killed my parent,” I interrupt with the dryly, black humour.   
“That’s not the point, Skye!” Brad screams at me but I scream back with more than enough fury than for both of us.   
“Brad, don’t you understand?! I want him to hate me! I want him to loath me!” I scream, but Brad doesn’t waver.   
“Scarlett you just did exactly the same thing as he did! While it was totally childish, he can’t blame you for it! He did the same stupid thing.”   
“I was worse than him, Brad!”  
“No you weren’t!” Brad persists as I reach across the table and grab my black sketch book.   
“Look!” I say flipping the book open, showing him the imperfect drawing of Jamie.  
“What?” he asks,” that’s Jamie, and?” I keep going as if he hadn’t said a word. I need him to understand.  
“And now look at this,” I flip the page, showing him the perfect depiction of Tom.   
“Aand that’s Tom Hiddleston…” Brad states, “What’s you point?”   
“Can’t you see that my drawing of Tom looks a lot more like him, than my drawing of Jamie?!” I ask my voice desperate. Didn’t he see it?  
“Have you gone mad?”   
“No, Brad,” I go back to the drawing of Tom, “can’t you see?” I flip the page back and forth between the two drawings, showing them to him on the webcam. The perfect and the imperfect. I know he can see them in high detail our connection is good.   
“You’re bugging mad Scarlett...” Brad says in a monotone voice, “they look exactly like the original specimen like always.” I sigh heavily, letting the sketch pad fall down onto my lap. I stare at the two pictures. Perfection and imperfection. I stop going back and forth between then settling on Tom’s picture. Then in one swift, precise movement I rip it out of the book, and tear it in half.  
“Scarlett, what the hell are you doing?” I hear Brad ask from my computer.  
“What I should have done a long time ago,” I say as I continue to make Tom’s picture into confetti, before throwing it in the bin.   
Then I precede with grapping my phone from my night table, sliding it open. I go to contacts, find Tom’s number, I click on message. Clinging tightly to my sudden decisiveness.   
Sorry if I lead you on. We will never happen. Meeting up with you was a mistake. I am sorry. Please don’t try to contact me.  
Skye  
Then I send the message, block and delete his number. It feels as if a weight of guilt is lifted from my shoulders.   
“What did you do?” Brad asks again.  
“I choose imperfection,” I just say, suddenly feeling rather poetic.  
“What the hell are you talking about..?”


	19. The loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

“WHOOOOH HOOO!” I bellow as I glide over the waves. The wind in my hair, the sun stringing my skin and the board under my feet. I haven’t felt this free in weeks. I am surfing with Patrick, as he is very athletic by nature and offered to come with. Godfray rests on the sand, drinking a cola.   
“Told you the waves would be splendid today, did I not?” we have come far out to where the waves don’t rise and crash anymore. We settle on out board our feet in the water. I shoot water at him, plunging my hand in the water, but I lose my balance and topple in feet in the air, head in the water gurgling. When I come up again Patrick is laughing, still seated firmly on his board. I get hold of my board again before it gets the chance to go sea-hiking.  
Surfing is my safe heaven. My place to think.   
“Shut up, Patty Pig.”  
“You too, Bower Boo.” Patrick shoots back weakly.  
“Seriously?”  
“I know, that wasn’t a very good comeback, wasn’t it?” Patrick concludes, a defeated look on his face.  
I shake my head, smiling.   
“Oh well,” he shrugs, “hey Bower, now that I have you alone,”  
“Mmh”  
“What happened to you and Delaney?” he asks, getting right to the point.   
“Nothing,” I try to say, but he doesn’t buy it.   
“No don’t give me that crap, what happened?” Patrick say, “one day you’re sharing food and being all grossly lovey – dovey and the next that just vanishes. What happened to you two? “  
I stay silent. Yeah, what the hell happened? It had all happened so fast. One event after the other. One screw up after the next.   
“Hollywood caught up with us, I guess.” I say vaguely.   
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patrick asks confused.  
“Well, that just meant this is the worst place to date someone ever.”  
“I still don’t follow.”   
I sigh, “Long story short: I thought she cheated, so I cheated, she got very mad, then I thought she forgave me and offered me another chance, but then she actually cheated, then we fucked each other’s brains out.”  
“Was it good?” Patrick asks not missing a beat.   
“What?”   
“The last part”  
“Yeah,” I state.   
“It happened at set, right?” he suddenly asks. As if I had only said I had slept with Skye and not mentioned anything about both of us cheating.   
“How did you know?”  
“Delaney’s hair and makeup mostly. You really fucked her up,” then he grins, “No pun intended.”   
“Seriously mate?”  
He laughs at me, “lighten up man, you only live once!” proclaims.   
“So they say,” I mutter a small smile at the corners of my mouth. Patrick didn’t seem to hear me.   
“No, but seriously who’d she cheat with? I know you kissed Collins at that party, but who’d she kiss? An’ ol’ fling?” Patrick asks, I had told him what happened after the party. It had been sheer dumb luck Skye hadn’t recognized Lily. The new haircut and extreme makeup Lily had gotten probably had something to do with that, but it still amazed me that Skye is that horrible at recognising people. Thank god my little Lily stunt had been forgotten. Skye would have never forgiven me if she had known that too. Lily had had the decency to make herself scatter of before the paparazzi’s came.   
“For all I know she doesn’t even have old flames,” I say avoiding the original question.   
Who’d she kiss, Bower?” Patrick persists.  
I sigh, “Tom Hiddleston...”  
“Ohh damn… You don’t hold a candle to that god. Seriously! He actually is a god!”  
“He is a frost-giant.” I state dryly.   
“Minor detail. He is still freaking Loki of Asgaard!”   
“I am Jace Wayland, shadowhunter.” I say, slapping on my Jace voice in an instant.   
“Okay point taken,” Patrick says, “But he is rather well-known.”   
“Yeah, but it’s not like Skye cares for that shit. It’s actually the reason she didn’t want to be with me in the first place.”   
He raises a sceptical eyebrow at me.  
“No kidding. But it’s not like I want her back.” I tell him. Out here on the seas I feel as if nothing can touch me. Like all my problems is back a shore. That’s the only explanation I got to why the hell I am so damn calm and not crying or screaming at the mention of Skye.   
“You don’t?” Patrick asks.  
“No.” I state in an emotionless voice.  
“Care to explain?”   
“We’re fucked up.” I state.   
“Everybody is fucked up,” he says looking at as if I am the silly one.   
“Yeah, but what we have it’s unhealthy,” I say becoming a little aggravated that he didn’t just accept things.   
“Well, fast food is unhealthy, but you still freaking love it, don’t you?”  
“We hurt each other over and over, Patrick.”  
“Elaborate.” He demands and I sigh.   
“I can’t.” I say. Not any more than I already have. We kept cheating on each other that ought to be out of the ordinary.   
“So that’s it, no more Skymie?”  
“I guess it is,” I still wondering where the hell that ship-name first originated. Sheehan had used it first around Skye and me, but how long had it been a commonly used term between our friends? Just wondering.   
“Man up and go fuck her instead. She is hot.”   
“What? I thought you were gay?” I say suddenly confused.   
“Bi. Keep up, Bower. But seriously what are you doing here? You guys had break up sex. Go for it!” he says enthusiastically. Aaaahh what?   
“What the hell are you on about?” I ask confused.   
“You haven’t heard of it?”   
“Heard of what?” I ask again, can’t he just get to the blasted point.   
“The break up sex loop.”   
“The what?” it sounded like something you’d get of ‘How you met you’re mother’, something Barney Stinson would have put in action and afterwards in the bro code.   
“I thought most guys knew this.” Patrick says in confusion, “Well, let daddy tell you,” Seriously patty? He ignores me not taking notice of the look I am sending him, “it’s basically this thing where you have 36 hours to sleep with your ex again and if you do there is an almost 100% chance it will become a regular thing.”   
“….” I stare at him.   
“Okay 75 % chance, but whatever.”  
“That’s a thing?” I ask in utterly disbelief.   
“Yeah.”   
“Does it work?”   
He shrugs, ”You could find out.” Then he turns his board toward shore, “race you to the beach, looser gives dinner?” he challenges.  
“Deal.” And we both take off paddling with our hands, looking like complete morons.


	20. Perfect and Imperfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

I have been going at it for hours on end trying to make a complete drawing of Jamie. Each one as imperfect as the next. Each one a picture of him, but not. It had kept droning on in my head, why? Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I draw him? I have been sat here for hours on my bed, drawing the same person over and over again for a billion different angels, with gazillion different light directions and thousands of facial expressions. Already many half-finished or finished drawing strew around me on the bed. The blinds closed, shielding me from the burning sun. the only light the lamp on my bedside table, joined by a lit candle.  
In a sudden fit of rage I hurl the sketch book across the room and burry my face in my charcoal covered hands, tipping forward on the bed. I hear the book thump against the wall loudly. I lie there in the darkness of my hair. I feel tears press my eyes, but they don’t come. ‘Now Skye don’t go hysterical on me. There is no reason to fuss.’ I tell myself.  
I sit up again, sucking in a large gulp of air, looking at the drawings around me. I pick each one up and neatly place them down again, putting them all in ranks.   
“So what are you trying to tell me…” I mutter staring at the numerous drawing before me. I had started at about 10 in the morning, after having disconnected with Brad. I look over at the clock on my bedside table. 03.00 pm… I’ve been drawing for 5 hours straight. No food or drink, but I didn’t feel anything. I needed the answer more.   
I put them all in order, the one where he is smiling in one line, frowning in another, being silly in the next and the last one was him crying, only one drawing, as I had seen him yesterday. I dwell on it for a short while expecting the tears in his eyes to cascade down his cheek. I shake my head. Of course they won’t, it’s a drawing. Stupid, Skye.  
“What are you hiding..?” I mutter at the drawings like an insane person, wanting to know why I can’t draw Jamie perfectly. I inspect each row. The first row of him smiling, the one of him frowning, the one where he is silly, the only one of him crying. I notice a particular drawing of him having a helmet on, grinning like the happiest boy in the world. It was a memory from that day where we basically broke into an ice skating ring. A sad smile form on my lips. It feels so long ago.   
My eyes wander to the silly row, a drawing of Jamie peeping out of a hoodie type thing, the panther onesie. I notice the ears I almost unconsciously drew at the top of his head. He is clutching it down over his one eye, leaving the other free to stare at out, making a silly Miley Cyrus-y face at me. I suddenly recall where that is from. It was from one of the first times I had ever really enjoyed Jamie’s company, the first time we had been all silly drunk together. It was from the party in honour of The Darling Buds record being realised. I smile at the sweet memory.   
Another of him picture pop up ,it’s one of him frowning his hair dark and wet sticking to the sides of his face. I remember the reason for his frown, I had just beat him in lasertag. Then suddenly I see it. It hit me so suddenly as if lightning had appeared at the black of night.   
“Oh my god,” I mumble running my hands over the paper. Every drawing was a memory and not enough with that, it showed how I felt in the moment too. That was why I couldn’t draw him as I saw him in pictures, a memory interfered each and every time. It is why I could draw Tom no problem, there were no feeling. No history. My feelings didn’t interfere with what my eye saw. A sudden memory strikes me and I get up to take the sketch pad lying strewn on the floor. I pick it up and go to the page in mind. The first drawing I have ever drawn of Jamie. The one where I saw him for one second sitting sulking at the back of a pub, it was him. Unclouded-ly him. Perfect him, though seen from afar, with sparse facial features due to the distance. Another memory surfaces.  
“Are you comin’?” Jane shouted as she was just about to head out the door, “we’ll be late! Maddie’s waiting!” We were just about to head out to Maddie’s brother’s band party.   
“Just a second!” I hollered back as I as I put the finishing touches on the drawing in front of me, a full close up of Jamie.  
Back in the present I see the exact same sketchbook rested in my hands and I turn the page to find the drawing from my memory. I had I forget I had ever made. This one is exactly the one I have been looking for, it’s Jamie. The perfect Jamie from the time where I didn’t know him, where my feelings weren’t clouded more than a couple of strange meetings. It was how I saw Jamie with my eyes, but not how I saw him with my heart.   
I turn to look at the drawings lying in line next to me on my silvery grey bedsheets, then I look back at the ‘perfect’ one, but suddenly I find it boring. Looking back at the others I suddenly see there never had been anything wrong with my self-proclaimed ‘imperfect’ drawings of Jamie. The one that was something wrong with is the so called perfect tedious ones, which I had so relentlessly soughed. There is nothing interesting about it. No soul. No heart. So I close the book and put it away.  
I turn to the pile of drawing picking up each, searching for the memories behind them, for the spark of light or darkness in the strokes of the pencil. “Perfect imperfection,” I mumble at the memories on my bed, happy that I am alone. Soon tears are running down my cheeks and I realise I have loved Jamie all along, all his flaws and weirdness included. All of his mistakes didn’t matter. But mine did. I have lost him for good and as I look at each drawing, both sweet, happy and heart breaking memory surfaces in my mind and draws out sobbing or a quite wishful laugher.   
When I lie the last one down in a pile on my bed, the one of Jamie crying, the end of our insane stupid arse love story, tears are still trickling down my cheeks, my face feels raw and my eyes are burning with sleepiness. I ball myself up in the in fetal position in the middle of the bed crying myself silently to sleep. My heart sailing in self-pity of love lost.


	21. Movies lie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

I have been at shore for about 2 hours. Patrick and I got out of the water as late as tree pm, it’s now past five and I am in a comatose at the back of the car, almost past out with exhaustion. We had an early dinner (I paid the damn bill…) after surfing and after that I became so drowsy I was about to pass out right then and there. So Godfray and Patrick got me out in car some huge silver truck-like thing Godfray had rented, they were sitting on the front seats talking quietly. My head hits the seatbelt and everything goes black.   
When I wake up again the car it’s cold and the sun has gone down. The world is pale blue colour. They have just left me here to fend for myself? God they could have woken me up!  
I sit up, my body feel broken after sleeping in the car, yet I feel refreshed. I see a note on the seat next to me. I pick it up  
Remember to lock after you. Keys at your feet.   
I look down and surely enough there it is. I take it and open the door. I take my time to stretch my sore limb each at a time, rebooting my circulation.   
When I am all unfolded I smack the door shut, click the loch button and begin to trot up the stairs to the flat with heave steps, it’s on the fucking 5th floor and the trainer – or senpai, whatever – had forbidden us to use the elevator. I am about to go past Skye’s flat, but I stop as I remember what Patrick told me out on the water. The break up sex loop… Wonder if? No, it’s ridiculous. I take out my phone from my pocket. And click it.  
09.16 pm  
Okay, so it isn’t that late. I play with the thought of going in Skye’s flat – I should say Jorge, Evelyn and Skye’s flat but whatever. Would she be there? Would she be alone? Would it work? NO, of course it wouldn’t. It’s stupid. I shake my head at my own ill-advised curiosity and start forward towards the door of my own shared flat. But I can’t help but wonder just IF it would work, if she would go along with it. It’s not like Skye isn’t one to take chances and get lost in a moment of young naivety. My own curiosity gets the better of me and the fact that images from last Skye and I fucked, definitely didn’t help. Screw it. I turn on my feet changing directions in the splits of a second. I go to their door, opening it slowly. Then I realise that’s even more suspicious and swing the door open casually stepping in, as if I am invited. There is no one in the kitchen, but I hear a faint clatter in what must be the living room. The TV is on and I hear a masculine and feminine voice talking. I stand still listening, trying to make out whom. If Skye is in the living room with the others I might as well leave. I need her alone. Otherwise it would never work.  
No it would never work… Why am I doing this? God, I shouldn’t let Patrick get in my head like that, with all his ‘bro code - how I met your mother’ - nonsense. I dwell in a pit of indecisiveness, shifting for one foot to the other in their little surprisingly clean kitchen. Stainless steel, white cabinets, the simple black table and chairs with geometric patterned pillow neatly ordered. ‘Okay, Jamie you moron’, I tell myself, 'it comes down to this: should your cock win or your dignity?’ This decision honestly is harder than one should think. Unable to make the decision whether to go charging into Skye’s room, testing Patricks theory or if I should just go to bed and sleep of this insanity, I just stand there almost asking to be caught.   
“Jamie?” A hoarse groggy voice mutter behind be, I whirl around faced with a tied-eyed Skye, rubbing her red eyes in disbelieve. She looks as if she had been crying hard, “what are you doing out here?” she asks.  
“Aaahhhh...” is my intelligent answer.  
She huffs at me – seemingly suddenly uninterested - and walk past me over to the kettle, she clicks the button on top coursing the kettle to start boiling slowly. Then she in quick precise movements places a cup on the table, goes to another cupboard with tea sorts in it, picks some tea I didn’t catch the name of and lowers a teabag into her cup, making sure the end hangs on the edge of the cup.   
“Can you pour me one?” I ask without really knowing why. Was I gonna sit down have cup tea with her? Not exactly what I had planned, but… there you go, I reckon. Without a word she reaches up to open the cupboard, placing another cup firmly on the table. Then she taps the cupboard where she found the tea sorts indicating for me to pick myself.   
I start forward walking up next to her; she quickly moves to do other things. I hear the clatter of pots as I stare into the mountain of teas. I take my time picking something I have never in my life heard of, feeling dare-y.   
I lean my hip on the kitchen counter facing Skye, who has already sat a pot of water to boil. We stand there in utter silence. No yelling or shouting as I would have thought, no nothing, just plain looking. We just bloody stand there, across from each other like fucking roman statues. Like we’re in our own little bobble of absolutely nothing, sort of like we’re waiting for something, anything to kick start a hurricane of… something. Shouting, crying, snogging who knew? All can do is wait for it!  
I take the opportunity to look her up and down, she is wearing a pink flowered long pyjama bottoms and a white tank top with a loose baby blue shirt over it. Her hair is sort of just a stack on top of her head. Her eyes are red rimmed and not a shred of makeup taints her face. She looks horrible, tired, groggy, sad and the look she giving me doesn’t help. The sadness shining in her eyes almost an actual physical touch on my body, seeping it’s way under my skin. I am still in my flip-flops and long swim trunks, only a dark blue sleeveless shirt over, it is rather cold actually. Her hands are crossed in front of her chest and she looking at me with that intense sad look. She doesn’t glare or stare, she just looks. Almost sort of observing me, like I was a rare thing to me found.   
I hear the dim scratching sounds of the telly and the mutter of voices oozing from the living room. The kettle starts shaking and burbling more and more. The water on the stove far behind still silent and plain.   
I have this odd tension in the pit of my stomach, the way she is looking at me, as if she isn’t even expecting me to leave or say anything. Like she knows there isn’t anything I can say. What we did to each other, it was unfair and mean. We had both acted on instincts we didn’t understand at the time. We had both made the exact same mistake. We had doubted the other ones love. And the doubt itself was like poison to the other, unconsciously confirming their fears. Even when we tried to talk about it, it always ended in primal tangle of limbs, either one way or the other.   
I suppose on some level you can say I had acted out of love even, not being able to handle the fear of her not loving me, which after all hadn’t been misplaced. She had never told me so, I just thought she had. But she had just kissed me, shown me her unfathomable desire. We kept acting like kids, very grown ones, but kids, children none the less. And her being unable to express herself, she had gone to another, who didn’t require the same upkeep, if you can say so. It hurt to think about, it hurt to think that she could love somebody else. It was selfish to thinks so, but the truth.   
But the odd sensation in the pit of my stomach remain, spreading into the room creating tension. Like we were both magnets with constantly switching poles. Pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling away from each other. But we both knew if we got to close, there would only be pulling and a lot of it. Positive and negative pulling at each other.   
The next I know, things are happening very quickly. The tension exploding. Skye jerks up from her leaning position against the big window facing the street outside, mumbling “fuck it,” under her breath. And before I even get to blink her lips are pressed to mine eagerly. She wavers against me standing up her very tiptoes to reach me, I crane down almost instinctively wrapping my arms around her small frame. Relaxing and relishing in her body shaped against mine. Her hands wrap themselves in my hair, drawing me to her. I tumble backwards towards the door behind me, kissing her as if in a frenzy. We walk through a narrow unlit hallway, the blood in my ears boiling, tuning out all other sounds. I feel the press of door behind me opening and suddenly I am slumped on my back in a big double bed. Skye is sitting atop me, a leg on each side of my chest. The room is dimly lit, a yellow light flickering softly against my eyelids, but it’s not sunlight. A candle is lit on the bedside table. The only light in the room. I know the bed is made of painted white wood, the sheets a silvery grey, a small table on each side of the bed. A heavy dresser across in the same white painted wood. A floor lamp occupies the left hand corner, being a screen a bright shade of pink. I know this from my previous late night visits to this very room. I know nothing of the room’s cleanliness  
I push up from under her rolling her over, and I hear the sound of paper crackles under us. In surprise I open my eyes breaking shortly from Skye’s lips, wanting only to remove the obstacle, but halt. Staring at what I’ve found.   
“Jamie, what is it?” Skye mutters in a hushed voice.   
I am staring stunned at a stack of drawings of myself, pictures I have never in my life seen. Skye moves away as if wanting to see what my fascination is, and as soon as she realises she frails around pushing all of the pictures over the side of the bed, out of my sight.   
“You weren’t supposed to see those…” she mumbles as her cheeks turns crimson.  
“Uhm…”  
“I am sorry,” she mumbles, not looking me in the eyes. is she ashamed?  
My head snap back at her, “for what?” I ask in confusion.  
“for creep drawing you,” she says, still looking down.   
“How’d you creep draw me?” I ask even more confused. Suddenly she pushes at my shoulders and I move away from her, the moment gone. The frenzy gone. “Skye, what’s wrong?” I ask as she get’s up turning her back on me  
“you were not supposed to see those.” She mumbles more harshly this time, sounding upset. She hunch down picking up the papers.   
“It’s okay, those are good drawings,” I tell her, wanting her to calm down.  
“But you weren’t supposed to see them,” she repeats.  
“Skye sit down would you? You’re starting to scare,” her movements are frantic, her hands going to her cheeks, before turning back to scrambling on the ground as she collects the drawings. She doesn’t answer.  
“Skye please sit.” I say almost in whisper. Her movements become ever more panicky, her breathing coming out in hard pants. I stretch across the bed trying to catch her arm, “Skye,-“  
“No, Jamie, don’t!” she exclaim in a hard hurt voice, jerking away from me. The very movement hurt. I took my arms back, “you don’t have to do that,” tears now appearing in her lethargic eyes.  
“Do what? What are you taking about?” I ask desperately, getting up from the bed to aide her.   
“No! Jamie, just stay there!” she says harshly pointing at me with her finger as if she wants to make my stay by use of ‘the force’, “I don’t want you seeing them!” her voice is high pitched and coming out in sobs. What coursed this reaction? I don’t…  
“Skye, calm down… I won’t look… just…” I go steadily towards her as if approaching a scared animal. She shrinks back against the eggshell coloured wall behind her burying her face in her hands.   
“It’s so stupid, it’s so stupid, it’s so stupid…” she keeps mumbling, and I seriously consider the possibility that she has gone mad. Again, what happened? What could make a person crumble like that over some blasted drawings?!  
“Skye…” I say softly, “look at me..” I place my hand on her knee, “Skye, please look at me.” Now it’s me who is sounding desperate… just fan-fucking-tastic.  
“I can’t.” her voice is muffled.  
“Of course you can..” I encourage her in a soft voice. Slowly she takes hold of my collar, her head still down. I sit down encircling her in my arms, pulling her against my chest where she rests her head.  
I kiss the top of her head, “Skye, please tell me what’s going on,” I whisper, her warm body snugged against mine. Her shoulders are shaking as she cries into my shirt.   
“Skye, what’s,-“ as if on queue her stomach suddenly decides to imitate the sound of a dying wale. there is a halt in her crying as she listens to the sound of her growling belly.   
“how long has it been since you last ate?” I ask, that was one hungry growl. She didn’t answer. And I suddenly found a way to help her stop crying. It was very simple. Food.   
“Come on. Get up.” I command, trying to tug her to her feet with me. She sighs and groans.  
“Jamie I’m fine..”she growls, her voice so hoards it almost sound broken. The growl of her stomach had seemingly choked her crying out of her and the tears had stopped streaming.   
“No, you’re hungry. Get up. we’re gonna get you food.”   
“Just leave, okay… you shouldn’t see me like this..” she tries to push me away, but her effort is too weak. If she had wanted to push me away she would have.   
“That’s not for you to decide and if anything the harm is already done,” I say and she growls at me, but her eyes are still glassy and red. The sadness still present in the air around her. I guide her hand in mine to the kitchen where I find a minor chaos. The water in the pot Skye put on the stove, had boiled over, spilling water all around it. I let go of Skye’s hand and rushed to take that water off the stove.  
“Forgot about that..” Skye mumbles as she stands back watching me work. I soon got it all cleaned and shining again, and I begin cooking. Behind me I hear the shuffle of chairs and I look back to find Skye sitting at the kitchen table watching me with slight apprehension, like she didn’t believe I was really there.   
We didn’t talk as I worked. I put some new water in the pot and soon pasta was cooking it way to deliciousness. Then I found a can of diced tomatoes which I heated in another smaller pot with finely shopped garlic and onions, then I add mysterious seasoning to my sauce, before pouring it over the pasta and placing it in front of Skye accompanied by a tall glass of water demanding her to eat.   
She digs into it my simple pasta dish eagerly, chewing and swallowing at a lightning’s pace. I sit down opposite her, watching her go. I don’t say anything since I’ll afraid she’ll choke on the food trying to answer. after 10 minutes she sits back in the chair her eyes closed her hands entwined a top her stomach. She almost purrs with delight.  
“Better?” I ask, she nods her eyes still closed. I have forgotten what she has done to me, and she seems to have forgotten what I have done to her. Forgot that we both should be boiling mad at each other, just because right now she seemed to need me and that was more than enough to make me forget my own selfish ways. And I estimate there are two kinds of friendships. The first one where you hold grudges, never giving in and are eternally destined to be mad at each other in some way or another. The other kind where sensing you’re friend in the need of help or simply watching them accidentally hit themselves in the head with a banana is enough to make you forgive and forget even the spikiest of quarrels. Skye and I are even, we both fucked up now we had to try and pick up the ragged pieces of our own and maybe –just maybe – the others heart. If we dared.   
“Skye, what’s going on with you?” I ask and she opens her eyes glancing gloomily at me.   
“Sleep deprivation, mashed with starvation and dehydration and general emotional instability isn’t a great mix,” she answers. I raise my eyebrow at her and she sighs heavily, “I don’t know… I just lost it… those drawings are very private.” She explains vaguely.   
“they’re just of me..” I state in wonder.  
“they’re memories,” she tells me as if it’s some big secret. I watch her, waiting for her to explain. She doesn’t. She just gets up, putting her dishes in the dishwasher, before turning away, leaving me alone in the kitchen.   
After a minute she reappears in the doorway.   
“You coming?” she asks.   
“What?” I croak in wonder.  
“We don’t need to have sex, we can just watch a movie or something?” she says innocently. In amazed silence of her request I follow her into her room. What’s she up to?   
She scrambles onto the bed where she flips in her laptop, I stand in the doorway, observing her odd behaviour. Suddenly she notices and stops her fumbling to look up at me, “you don’t need to be here if you don’t want to,” she says in calm voice, so different from the voice before, “if you still hate me it’s okay. I’ll just see you at work tomorrow alright?” a sad smile shapes her face.   
I cross the floor and sit down next to her. I don’t hate her. I probably should. But I don’t. After all she should probably also hate me. But she didn’t seem to anymore. Some people need some grand gesture to make sure the other one really loves them, the movies told us we need it. That we should base our love of that grand gesture, if it’s standing outside their window with a boombox declaring our eternal love for them or if it’s letting them take the floating door in the sea of ice, it was all the same. But what the movies tell us is a lie. A plain lie. In reality all we needed was to find each other again over a movie in bed.  
Soon Skye and I sit shoulder to shoulder watching the girly 80’ties movie ‘dirty dancing’. I don’t mind, Skye snuggles closer to me and I wrap my arm around her for some reason feeling more content with her in my arms than I have done in week. As Baby comes to Johnny’s cottage and they start dancing sensually to ‘cry to me’, I kiss Skye. A real kiss. Not hungry and filled with lust and desperation. No teeth or biting, just my lips pressed tenderly against hers. The arm that isn’t locked at her side glides though the messy side of my hair. We kiss like that for a while, as if discovering each other again. In one smooth movement she gets up to sit astride me. Softly we remove each other’s clothes, leaving only my boxers and her small panties on. We don’t go any further. We don’t have sex or make silly promises of eternal love. We just kiss, and caress each other’s bodies with soft movement. Kissing jaws, chests, breasts, stomachs, noses, shins thighs, relishing in the feeling of skin against skin and the closeness of knowing that right now, there is nothing wrong with being a little young and naïve.   
We fall asleep in each other’s arms as we have done so many a time before, inhaling the others sweet scent.   
The next day I am woken up to the sound of my own ringtone, I open my arms to find the room dark, the curtains still drawn, Skye spread out next to me, her one breast unshielded by the sheets. I smile and get my jeans where my phone is ringing. I hear Skye begin to stir, grunting into the pillow as she turns over.   
I take the call, seeing it’s my mom. She never calls this early, she knows the time difference, so must have to be important.   
“Hey mom,” I say in a hushed voice.   
“Jamie?” my mom voice is strained, like she has been crying. Instantly I know somethings wrong.   
“Mom, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” I ask, my heart starting to pound in fear in my chest. Had dad heart given out? No he’s still young! Can’t be.   
My mom lets out a whimpering cry before she says, “It’s Sam. He’s been in an accident.”


	22. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

The pillows are so comfortable I can just blend right in to them, content with the heat of Jamie’s half naked form on my side. But a phone absolutely had to go of ruining my bliss. Blasted fucking phone. I feel the bed shift as Jamie gets up to answer whoever is calling at this ungodly hour. I turn around groaning into my pillow.  
“Hey mom,” I hear Jamie say in a hushed voice, starting towards the door leaving me to sleep in peace.  
Faint voices emanates from Jamie’s phone. I am unable to make them out.   
“Mom, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” Jamie says no longer bothering to lower his voice. He has stopped dead in his tracks on the way to the door, I know because the floor no longer squeaks under the soles of his feet.  
Silence   
“What?” Jamie croaks.   
Silence  
“Where is he?” Jamie says, his voice sounds dispatched as if he is somewhere else. I sit up in the bed. He is frozen on the spot, his back to mine.   
Silence  
“Are you with him?” Jamie asks, pain tainting his voice. Worry flares in my stomach.  
Silence  
“What happened?”  
Next followed more silence, Jamie’s shoulders sagged. His body seeming frozon.  
“Mom, I am coming…No, mom, listen…. I don’t care! I am coming…. Shrew my career! They’ll do without me for a couple of days!... Yes…. My brother’s in a coma and you are worried about my career? Listen to yourself!... yes, of course I am right!.... Yes, have a good flight. Keep me posted if anything changes.. I love you too.. Bye.” He hangs up.   
I get out of bed, sensing the dread hanging in the room. Jamie is standing still, looking out into nothingness as I approach him, slowly gliding my hand from his elbow to his shoulder. We’re still almost naked, only dressed in black tightfitting boxers and panties.  
“Jamie?” I mumble as I walk around him, so I can see his face. One hand on his shoulder another on his jaw lifting his face, “Jamie? What’s happened?” He doesn’t answer as his eyes met mine, gut-wrenching sadness emanating from them. I had heard what he had said, ‘My brother’s in a coma’. But I’m not sure whether I really heard it or not, Sam couldn’t be in a coma. He is Sam, naturally he is fine.   
“J?” I mumble, pleading him to say something.   
“My brother’s in a coma,” He states grimly in a low voice, filled with disbelief. Dread beats alive in my chest. I don’t know what to answer, what could I answer without sounding like an uncaring douche? ‘I’m sorry’? What exactly would I be sorry for? It’s an odd thing to say when something bad happens, someone must not have been thinking back when they first started saying that.   
“Where are they holding him?” I then ask.   
“Copenhagen. He got hit by a car. Doctors say it’s critical,” his tone is monotone, as if showing feelings suddenly became risky business, which is probably exactly the case. I trail my hand from his jaw to his hand, holding it. I don’t know what else to do.   
“Is there – is there anything I can do?” I ask, neglecting the ‘I’m sorry’ norm, in these situations. I didn’t help him anyway. I have never met Sam, since he rarely comes home to visit, according to Jamie. Sam goes to the academy of music in Denmark. It takes of most of his time. Or that’s what Jamie told me.   
“Do you know how to get of work for today? I need to get on plane.” He confesses. Oh yeah.. We have work today, how bloody convenient.   
“I don’t,-“ my answer is cut short by a high ringing of the front door.   
“You expecting anyone?” Jamie asks, his voice is still lifeless.   
“No, it must be for Evelyn or Jorge, what time is it?” I ask, looking past Jamie at the digital clock on the bedtime table.   
“Early,” Jamie so kindly informs me.   
“It’s 07.32,” I correct him, we have late start at work today. So thankfully we still have an hour to get ready.   
“SKYYYYYEEE!” a voice shouts through flat, “front door! It’s for you! A man is here to speak to you!“ I suddenly register the faint mumbles of an unfamiliar voice. Jorge had just shouted the message of this person’s arrival from the other end of the apartment. I look up at Jamie.  
“Get dressed, I’ll help you with Jared,” he nods and turn back to pick up his shirt from the floor. I do the same thing myself, just much quicker. Janking on a big black tee shirt – which I am pretty sure is one of Jamie, he must have left it before all the shit happened – and a pair of black sweats, before I go to answer the door.  
“Skye!” Jorge shouts again, as I am about to turn the corner to the kitchen leading to the small hall.   
“Coming!” I say and almost smash into Jorge chest. He quickly steadies and releases me.   
“You took you’re time,” Jorge voice is half flooded with annoyance. I don’t answer and he goes on without noticing, “he is out there,” he point over his shoulder before hunching down to my ear, “he looks like a one of those Christian Gay-“  
“Grey,” I automatically correct him.  
“Whatever, he just looks older though. Odd thing, he has the same hair as you. Curly and all red,” He fluffs my disastrous hair as he says the last part.  
I shake my head at him and push him towards the door I have just gone through, “Go get dressed,” I tell the second person this morning. You should think I was their mother. And then I head towards the front door around the corner.   
I go through the kitchen and soon find my way to the hall, where I am faced with a man I have never in my life seen before. Yet he seen slightly familiar. He has the same hair of red unruly locks as myself. His mouth his full and his eyes an intense green colour staring out at me from under thick dark red eyebrows. His face is stern and hard, like the business men so often portrayed in movies, but he isn’t young, past forty at the least. The lines of his forehead and the crinkles of his eyes and mouth visible, despite his lack of facial expression. He is wearing a blue suit, even though it is barely eight in the morning, with shining black shoes and a silver watch on his right hand. He gives of a feel of authority, like he is used to getting his way.   
“Hallo Ms. Delaney,” he says in a British accent, stretching out his hand. I greet him shortly, shaking it. I hate being called Ms. Delaney, that was my mother’s name, not mine. I am Skye. Though I could deal with Patrick calling me Delaney, it is the Misses which bug me.   
“What is this about?” I ask. A smile plaster itself on his features, drawing up the lines of his face. I can feel his eyes on my, staring intensely on my face. As if he’s inspecting it.   
“I am sorry for dropping by like this, I just didn’t know another way of going about it.” He says quizzically. What am I arrested? Is he gonna kidnap me and make me work like a drug mule? I wouldn’t be my first choice if I was him, but people are idiots.   
“Can you please just tell me what this is about?” I repeat.  
“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Cole Reed Marlowe,” he put his hands behind his back standing up relaxed my straight as an arrow. I have a strange feeling of déjà vu as I stare into his face, like I have seen him before but then again I haven’t.  
“Okay,” I say, starting to feel rather annoyed by this dolled up suit man. Couldn’t he just get to the bloody point?  
“Ehm,” he choughs, “I am here because…” he stops again, averting his gaze to the ground. He let’s out air between pressed lips slowly. No every day you see businessmen like this one practically step on their feet in anxiousness. I was the one who should be stepping on my feet… who the hell is this man…?  
“I am here to tell you,” he starts over, “that I’m… that I am your biological father.”   
The words don’t even get the time to sink in.   
“Skye, we need to go to set. I have to talk to Jared,” Jamie says as he walks into the hallway, seemingly not having heard the words this man just had uttered.  
“Aaah..” Is my reply.   
“Here, take my card,” the man – my father – says before pressing a small hard piece of paper into my palm, “call me or swing by my office when you’ve got the time.” He smiles at me, a smile which I don’t exactly appreciate seeing as he proceeds says, “Nice to meet you,” before turning away and heading out the already open door. Leaving. Should have seen that one coming…  
“Who was that?” Jamie asks, stopping to look at me. I must not look well since he does so, after all his brother is medically knocked out in some steel trap at a hospital, he shouldn’t be worrying about anything but that. Yet he takes his time to stop and look at me.   
“No one,” I say lying to his face, “just some Jehovah's Witnesses,” the real information could wait to another, less pressing time. My father had only just decided to show is stupid face after almost 23 years he could wait a couple more days, might do him some good.   
“You sure about that? He didn’t have a book with him or any pamphlets.” Jamie questions.  
“Now I didn’t say he was very well prepared,” I walk over and suddenly feel the need to grab Jamie arm, not tightly, just make sure he is still here. I go on my tiptoes and kiss his shaped lips for a second or two, lingering a little. His scent is filling my nostrils, making my head go fuzzy. My bed will smell like him for weeks, thank god. If he is going away it was almost the only thing reminding me of him. I suddenly feel grateful for the night we have just spent together. Grateful that maybe even with all the other pressing crap piling up around is, we might just be okay.   
“Everything will be alright,” I tell him quietly. He presses his lips to mine again, not answering, “Meet you back here in 15 minutes?” I ask, he nods, places another swift kiss on my lips and leaves to go pack.   
I pace the small distance to my room in a trance, knowing I need to get properly dressed. It is not acceptable to go to work in sweats and your co-stars old tee shirt, for what I know. The trance lingers in my mind, counting up the face of my father. My newly returned father… What could he want? For the love of god, he had stayed away for 22 years! Couldn’t he just have kept it that way?! I was perfectly content with the way things were. No parental pressure. No haunting family dinners. No obligations other than my work and my friends. My mom hadn’t been a factor for years, I hadn’t spoken to her since last July where aunt Marry had died and I had had to go to the funeral. I had never even met this proclaimed ‘aunt Marry’ woman. I had only gone because that’s what you did when someone in your family die. It didn’t matter that I had no idea who she was.   
I was perfectly content with the fact that I had fled the house in the suburbs as soon as I had turned 18. Leaving for a better tomorrow in London, where I soon found Brad in just as dire a situation as myself. We had helped each other out and not after long Jane joined the picture. That was the way I liked it, just me and my friends. No one to control and contradict every decision I made. No one to put down my dreams and hopes. No one to cloud the day and make my life miserable No mother and especially no fucking father.   
I decide that until Jamie is safely on a plane headed for Copenhagen, I will not think of the fact that I have just met my father. I will not.


	23. The national hospital of Copenhagen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

Skye had helped me out with Jared, and he had agreed to let me go for a couple of day to go see my brother. That was the humane thing to do, but he couldn’t postpone shooting much longer. He had said that by Tuesday, we had to be up and running. Now I was running through the airport, going straight for the last flight to Copenhagen; Skye running behind me.  
When we get to the security check I stop and look back at her. The line was all gone and there were about 10 minutes till take off.  
“This is as far as I go,” She says as she catches up to me, she wasn’t far behind.   
“Skye I’m scared,” I say.   
“Don’t worry just yet,” Skye answers, knowing what I meant, it was not the flight to which I was referring. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it.   
“The doctors say he was in critical condition. What if? What if he..?” I speak quickly, the words coming out in a stream. Once again I felt like I can’t breathe. The words refusing to come out of my mouth, though they are loud and clear in my head. What if he is already dead?  
“Jamie, look at me,” she places her hand on my cheek and avert my eyes to hers. We’re close her body against mine, “he isn’t. Just take one little thing at a time. Take care of yourself, okay?”   
I nod shortly, “I promise,” I say before leaning forward and embrace her, pressing her small frame against mine. Shortly after I release her and start toward security check, but I haven’t even got two steps before she yanks me back.   
She presses her lips intensely to mine, and I kiss her back with just as much eagerness.   
She is the one to break us apart, “you need to hurry” she says. I nod, taking my things. Just for good luck I kiss her again, it made the fear ebb away.   
“Jamie, take off is in 6 minutes.”   
I ran to the security people and took off my shoes and placed all the other stuff in a tray. I got though it just in time, as I look back at her, already running toward the gate, she is waving.   
When I sit in my seat, the plane quickly takes off. But thankfully there is wifi. I unlock my phone and go to twitter. Where I make a private message to Skye’s profile.  
‘I’ll miss you.’ I write. About 20 minutes later the reply tick in, she must have gotten home.  
‘I already miss you.’ It is quickly followed by another message, ‘we’re doing this again? Like really doing it? No games? No stupidity? Just you and me?  
‘I’d like nothing more.’ then I add, ‘just you and me.’  
She replies with a bunch of kissy smileys and hearts, and I find myself smiling goofily.   
‘I need to tell you something.’ I write knowing that keeping secrets from her now will only come crashing down around me in the future.   
‘Shot.’  
I decide to go straight to the point, ‘The girl I kissed at the party was Lily…’  
Next followed dead silence for a whole 35 minutes. My heart is drumming hard in my chest. Had I screw it up? I have a ringing in my ears. I have almost decided that my life is officially over when the message ticks in.  
‘Did it mean anything?’  
‘No, not anymore.’ I write hastily.  
‘Ok.’  
‘I’m sorry.’ I write.  
‘I kissed someone too, you don’t need to say that.’  
‘We’re fucked up, Skye..’  
‘Well let’s be fucked up together then.’ is her reply. And I smile again.  
Then I write a quote I heard from somewhere, ‘I’m not a freak, I am just freak-ish.’  
By then our conversation glided over to less sore subjects like Evelyn snarky comments on Instagram, to Patrick constant hair whipping. It kept my mind of the fact that my brother is dying.

Copenhagen is a small city compared to many others, but it has culture like no other. Most of the buildings are old with beautiful carvings and green bronze roofs. Though the sky is always grey and the wind always brisk, the place is beautiful.  
But I don’t take the time to take in the surroundings; I rush to the hospital, not bothering to check into a hotel or anything at all. I take a cap, even though they’re very expensive in Denmark and head to the national hospital, where I know my brother is kept.   
The world is sort of a haze, I know if I stop and think, I’ll lose it. I’ll cry like a baby and that won’t help anyone. Not yet. I need to see him. About ten minutes from the hospital I get a text from my mom.   
’Doctors say he is stable. But he is still in a coma. ‘  
I don’t reply, I just pocket the phone and wait the last ten minutes before I quickly pay the cabby and sprint into the foyer of the hospital. I head to the counter where a slightly chubby, but pretty nurse with blond hair and blue sat in her nurse white clothes.   
“Where do you keep Sam Bower? I’m his bother.”  
“Third floor, room 34b.” she tells me giving me the kind ‘nurse’ smile.   
“Thank you,” I say and head for the elevators, get to the third floor. I walk swiftly in the directions the signs direct, then suddenly out of the blue, the sigh appear. Room 34b.  
The door is closed.   
A couple of nurses pass by me. An elderly wheels by in his underwear.   
I feel nauseated. Like my non-existent dinner could suddenly make a rerun. I am shaking all over, not knowing what I’ll find behind the door.   
He is stable Jamie. I try to calm myself. Nothing has happened yet.  
Then I press down the door handle and walk in. My mother sits by the side of the bed slumped in a chair. My father sit’s a little farther away at the end of the bed, he is sleeping too. They look exhausted.   
At last my gaze settles on my brother. He is pale tugged neatly under the covers. His blond hair is spread out in a halo around his face. He looks peaceful, like he is just sleeping. I notice the cast on his right arm and his covers seem bigger at his legs then they should be. He has probably broken about every bone in his body.   
The room has white walls with a yellow steak going through the middle of it and the floors is linoleum there’s a sink by the door, the only other things in the room is the chairs which my parents are sitting, a table, a turned off TV and my brothers bed. The curtains are drawn.   
“Jamie?” it is my mother’s groggy voice, she was lifting herself up from the chair. I notice her looking at my brother out of the corners of her eyes, just to check if he’s still out. Hoping that he wasn’t. “You’re here.” she says.   
“I am,” I answer, “What do the doctors say? Will he wake up?” I talk quietly.  
My mother leans back in her chair with a heavy sigh, “They say he got badly hurt, broke a lot of bones. He is nearly in a full body cast. But he only got a concussion, no damaged to the brain or the spine. They say that eventually he’ll wake up, just a matter of time. How much time, they don’t know. They say it could be everything between a day, to a week.”  
I walk over to the other side of the bed to where my mother isn’t sitting. Sam’s face is blue on the side facing me, that’s why I didn’t see it from the door. He has scratches on his cheekbone, and stitches through the left eyebrow.   
Carefully I sit down on the side of the bed and take his hand in mine, this arm is free of casts, so I cautiously lift it onto my lap.   
“Sam, would you please just wake up?” I whisper my voice cracking. I sit like that for hours, not moving just stroking his hand absentmindedly in the end. I stare at his unmoving face, watch the steady rise of his chest, and listen to the steady beep of the machine mapping his heart rhythm. That was until one single ringing tone filled the room. It rang intensely.   
My head snap to the heart monitor, one uninterrupted line filled the screen. His heart has stopped.   
“SAM!” I jolt up from my chair, I stand over him and I know that he is gone, that his heart is no longer beating, “SAM, PLEASE! NO, SAM! NOT YOU! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” I shake his shoulders, grab his face. He doesn’t move.   
Before I know it I, along with my father and mother were ushered out the room by nurses and doctors. The last thing I see are the doctors ripping Sam’s shirt open, revealing a purple and blue scrawny chest.   
We are told to sit in the chairs outside, waiting for the doctors to do their job. I did no such thing. With the adrenaline still pumping in my veins I sprint down the corridor, and just keep running till I find an exit and hit the cold air outside. The sky is grey, which fits my mood perfectly, no thunder would have been more accurate, but my luck is just sort of out.   
I run and run and run. Charging around on some grass field behind the hospital, wearing my black skinny jeans, plain black shirt and leader jacket, I must look ridiculous. Like someone ready to be thrown in the loony bin. Maybe I am.   
My brother’s face keeps emerging in my mind. The face I last saw. So pale and lifeless, despite all the bruising. His dead face. As I keep running more faces start to appear. The face he had on his 18th birthday when I took him to a music store in London and told him to pick his very own guitar. He could pick any one of them, no matter the price. His face had lit up with happiness and overpowering joy. He had spent hours in the store, trying out approximately every guitar.   
Memories of him and I fighting in the car on our way on a family vacation play in my mind – like an actual tape. I had been 11, he had been 6. We had fought for the right of the Pac - man Gameboy. It had been so ridiculous. We had both ended with falling asleep in the car anyway.   
The most recent memory coming up was a couple weeks ago when I had facetimed him and told him I had landed the role of Jace again. He had told me he should play a concert at the academy. He had seemed so full of life and joy. He had even talked to some extent about some girl in his class.   
Suddenly I stop the dead, the adrenaline drained from my body. I am sweaty, my breath is rapid and I am pretty sure my hair has a striking resemblance to Einstein’s.   
I lay down on my back in the grass, it’s cold and the cold seep up through my body. It’s soothing. The cold. I stare at the grey sky. There is absolutely nothing interesting about that stupid grey sky.   
My breath slows and become steady after a short while. The sweat on my body freezes and I start to shiver. My hair probably still look like a mad man’s.   
Slowly I get up, my joint and muscles aching. I hobble inside, gradually feeling the heat returning to my body as my circulation reboot. I raise my hands to pat down my disoriented hair and find out that I have been crying. My cheeks are wet. Huh. Funny. I didn’t even notice. I had been too busy running like lions were at my heels.   
I remove them with the back on my hand. When I get back to the hall where I left my parents, they’re gone.   
I feel the panic rise in my chest as I near room 34b. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. My head keep chanting, like it was some kind of idiotic battle roar. I swing open the door and find my mother and father stand over the bed, looking down at Sam. He is dead. He is dead. My brain roars.  
And then I hear it, that faint steady beep.   
He is alive.   
“He is alive, sweetie,” my mom says, turning to me. She holds out her hand I take it. Feeling like I’m an eleven year old boy again. I hold onto it, her hands are soft and strong. A mother’s hands. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly. And I hug her back, my father comes around and pats my back. I hug him next.   
“Where’d you go, sweetheart?” my mom asks in a quiet voice, “you were suddenly gone. We tried looking for you.”  
“I went for a run,” I answer, not bothering to find a more valid excuse. She looks oddly at me for a second, but decides not to question it. So she just nods and hugs me again.   
“What happened?” I asked, “why..?” my voice trails off. Why did his heart give out.   
My mother tells me the same vague story the Doctors gave her. He had a heart attack. It could happen when the body had been injured so badly as his. We just had to hope it didn’t happen again.   
***  
Very little happened the next day, saturday. I had checked into a little motel near the hospital where I kept my things and slept. Otherwise I was at the hospital, accompanying my brother and my parents. A constant knot of fear had settled in my body, I just didn’t know where exactly. So it was hard unknotting it.   
I took my phone and went to twitter and wrote.   
‘Pray for baby Bower.’  
Then I went to private messages and saw Skye had sent me two messages yesterday evening.   
‘How is he?’ is the first message.  
‘Are you okay, Jamie?’ is the next. I miss her, I miss her so badly it hurts all over. I want her to be with me. I want her to be in my arms and myself in hers. I want to know she is safe and mine and that she loves me and that I love her, even though it is way too soon to say that sort of thing again. I figure it must be the sleep deprivation talking. I barely slept at night, I just lay awake staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes I had nightmares.   
‘He had a heart attack yesterday, but he survived it. He seems fine now.’ I send it, and then write another one to answer her next question, ‘I am alright, considering...’   
This means that I am absolutely terrible and that I am about to go nuts. The waiting will kill me faster than anything else.   
I decide to write another message, three words. ‘I miss you.’  
Her answer came quick.  
‘I wish I would be there with you. I miss you too.’ Then there was added a kissy smiley.  
‘I’ll have to go back on Monday,’ I write.   
’I know. If you wanna stay I can talk to Jared for you?’  
‘No don’t, not just yet. He can wake up any day now.’ I write back.  
‘Just give me the word and I’ll do it.’  
Then I proceed to asking about everyone at home, but her answers seem very distraught and I wonder what is really going on. Or maybe I am just imagining things. I need sleep. Badly.   
***  
Sunday Sam’s heart stops again.


	24. Failed parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

My father is a millionaire.   
I’ve taken the liberty of googling the name on his card, ‘Cole Reed Marlowe’. I have learned the following; he is a business man, specialising in advertisement and economics. He has gone to fucking Harvard, where he has not just one degree, but two. One in Computer Science (I can’t even wrap my head around, whatever the hell, mega pixels are.) and one in business, (I can’t wrap my head around that either.)   
After that he worked on god damn Wall Street as a stockbroker, which inevitably he was pretty god damn good at. At 28 he had made his first Million dollars. Then he had gotten a –VERY – well-paying job at an advertisement company, they made commercials for a lot of major companies, including Walmart, McDonalds and ToysRus. He has worked there to this day.   
So just to Sum up, Cole Reed Marlowe is doing very well for himself.   
And the man claims to be my father… Well fuck me…  
“So that’s your big bad daddy?” Sheehan asks, he is sitting next to me on my bed. It’s Sunday morning and like always in LA the sun is baking.   
I glare at Robert.   
“What? Not like the guy doesn’t look like you!” he says, taking a gulp of a water bottle. We’re both still in our pyjama’s, we had a sleep over last night, Sheehan, Godfray, Evelyn, Patrick and myself. Jorge had gone to see a “friend”. I had told them about Jamie’s brother and then we had gotten very drunk after that depressing ordeal. It had seemed like a good idea, Jamie’s brother was possibly standing with a foot in his grave, the whole of Hollywood thought I was a whore and my father suddenly decided to show his face after 22 years – drinking was a necessity. Now we all have a light head ache – or Sheehan and I have a light head ache, Evelyn, Patrick and Godfray are currently clutching the toilet.   
“He is not my big bad daddy!” I exclaim. “He is possibly my biological father! Not my big bad dad!”  
“Oh, no, I forgot! That’s Jamie who’s your daddy...”  
I push Robert of the bed. He lets out an indignant yelp.   
He appears again his hair in severe disarray.   
“What was that for?” he voice is high pitched and vexed, he leans back against the wall behind him. He is smiling.   
“Jamie isn’t my daddy, you blithering idiot!” I yell. I am not really mad at him, I am just pretending to be for the fun of it. Robert goes along with my drama tirade.   
“That’s up for discussion!”  
“Is not!” he laughs at my frustration as he gets up to sit on the bed.   
“But seriously Skye, what will you do about that dad of yours?” his voice has become serious, no humour to be found. I liked the playfully annoying joke-yelling better, can we go back to that?   
“No idea, he called me yesterday and told me to meet him today,” I tell Sheehan, “I don’t know if I’ll go.”  
“When is this meeting supposed to be?” he asks.  
“What time is it now?” I look behind Sheehan at the clock on my bed side table, ”9. 37 A.M, in 4 hours I think? At 13.30 or so, I suppose.”  
“What are you gonna do?” he asks.  
“I am gonna go, and see what he has to say for himself,” I answer. My father haven’ shown his sorry face for 22 years, it would be an understatement to say that I resented the guy. But I have to submit to one of humanities fatal flaws; demoralising curiosity.   
“And then what?” he asks  
“I don’t know? scream at him for leaving my mother?” I didn’t in particular like my mother, she would never stop telling me what to do, how to walk, how to talk, how to put on a face for the world. That was what she wanted; for me to be her push little puppet. In the end it was exactly that, which had driven me away. But being let with a child, having to become a single mom, wasn’t something she deserved. “Or scream at him for not taking me with her.”  
“Mommy issues?” Sheehan asks.  
“You bet.”  
“Huh.” Sheehan mutters, “How is she?”  
“Try and imagine Mrs Dursley from the Harry Potter franchise,”  
“Yeah?”  
“Then multiply that by a thousand.”  
“Oh fantastic!” he exclaimed, “That type of woman. You really don’t seem like a person raised by that sort of push-ness.”   
“Thanks,” I say and added, in the celebration of sharing, “I left home at 18, and I don’t plan on coming back anytime soon.”  
“I don’t blame ya,” he says, “but what about your dad? Why do you think he’ll contact you now, After so darn long?”  
I flopped back on the bed, letting out a heavy exasperated sigh, “I don’t know… He isn’t exactly the type who lacks money,” I say, Sheehan read over my shoulder when I had googled him.  
“Maybe he just wants to get to know ya?”  
“I hope not.”   
“Why?”  
“Because he had 22 years, the time is up.” honest to god, I am angry at him, very angry. I just want him to simply stop existing and leave me alone. But I persist at one thing in life and that is being a fucking hypocrite, so obviously I am going to see him. After all what could he want with a daughter like me? It isn’t like I have anything valid to offer? Right?  
***  
I walk down the street, my eyes trained on my phone. I read two indirect tweets Jamie sent me a couple minutes ago.  
‘There’s no news with Sam. It’s all the same.’  
‘I’ll go nut cooped up in here. Please distract me.’  
So I did.   
‘Sheehan wrestled Patrick to protect my honour yesterday. It was very heroic of him.’ I write.  
‘He failed spectacularly? Didn’t he?’  
‘I thought that was implied in the word ‘wrestling’.’  
‘ahaha, thanks.’  
‘What for?  
‘Making me laugh.’ He writes, ‘it’s been a while.’  
I text him all the way up to the building where I am to meet my father. It’s a good thing otherwise I might have jumped up and down the streets seeing as my body is filled to the brim with nervous energy.   
I had looked up the address on his card before going, and I’ve found that I knew exactly where he works. It is one of those shiny white office building, you see everywhere. They all look so darn important, but you know it’s only filled with boring accountant in there.  
I swing the door open and find myself faced with a little brunette the size of a dwarf. And I thought I was small… If she stood next to me, instead of behind that counter, she’d barely reach my shoulder.  
“What can I help you with, miss?” she asks pleasantly, she has a slight southern drawl.   
“I’m here to see Mr Marlowe.” I state as I reach the counter.  
“And you are?” she asks her tone still pleasant.   
“Ms Delaney.” she nods and takes a phone to her ear. “A Ms Delaney is here to see you sir. I will sir.” then she turns to me. “He’ll be with you momentarily. Take a seat.” She points at a cluster of grey chairs in the corner of the foyer.   
I did.   
Then suddenly he appears. My father. He is dressed in a blue tux, he looks like straight out of some layer show. Like Amy’s.. Something.. Okay, I am terrible at remembering anything but lines, let’s just keep it at that. I stand up.   
“Hey Scarlett.” he says, he doesn’t imply to greet me or anything; he just stands there.  
I correct him, “It’s Skye.” he nods. Should I kick him and run, or is that possibility a little too childish? – even for me?   
“So you’re my father?” I ask stupidly. It’s a stupid question because it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out we’re related. The curly red hair, the curve of our jaw and lips, the high cheek bones, the eyes. Almost everything is the same. Like I was his female counter part. Or clone, or something. It is actually sort of scary. The tiny lady behind the counter had made herself disappear. we’re alone.  
“I am.” he answers.  
“How long have you known?” I ask. My voice is monotone, it was either that or yelling and my head wouldn’t appreciate that.   
“Ever since you’re role release in the press.” he says.  
“How’d you know I was you daughter id you’d never know anything of me?” I ask sceptically, his explanation seemed strange.   
“I’ve got my sources.” Okay, so he is that sort of man. Okay, got it. I know he’s lying. I know I can’t trust him. So I make a snap decision.   
“Aha.” I say, “I think I have to go.” I turn on my heels and head for the door, “bye.” I shout. He isn’t worth it. I’ve got my sources’ what kind of explanation is that!   
“No SKYE! Wait!” he yelps, taking hold of my wrist. I stop and turn around to give him my best ‘fuck-off’ – glare. He lets go instantly, “sorry.” he mumbles.  
“What do you want from me? Dad?” I spit the word out like it’s poison. “Why choose to acknowledge my existence now? It’s been fucking 22 years!” maybe I should calm down, “22 fucking years! And you didn’t think that once; your daughter might want to see you! Don’t! “ I hold up a stern finger, it would look funny if I hadn’t been yelling my lugs of like I did, “don’t give me some kind of crap, like you didn’t know about me. You did! My mother barely talked about you, but the despise in her eyes when she did made it very fucking clear to me that you fucking new I existed! You knew, but you choose to stay away, anyway!” calming down, didn’t seem like a choice anymore, so I kept going, “and what now? You want to prance into my life now that all the hard work is over? Is that what you want? Is it? Well, you’re not gonna get it. You’re not my father and you never will be.” I turn to leave.  
“Please don’t go,” he says, again grovelling at my wrist like some beggar.  
“Go fuck youself.” I spit yanking my wrist from his grasp.  
“Skye, I want to make amends! Please give me a chance!” he pleads.  
“You blew that the first 20 seconds by lying to me.” I have regained some sort of control over my temper.   
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” he apologizes. He is so pathetic it dulls my anger.   
“So again, how long have you known of me?” I ask, testing if he actually meant it or if he was just full of crap.   
“Since you were born.” he answers. Okay, that actually hurt more than the lie. He has known about me his whole bloody life, but has chosen to ignore both me and my mother.   
“Why haven’t you ever contacted me?” I ask, my voice is dead again. Ridded of feelings.   
“I didn’t want to be held back. I was 19 at the time. I had big dreams. I didn’t want a wife and child destroying them.” he tells me. I feel like he is stabbing me repeatedly in the chest.   
“So you just chose to have your fun and leave the woman with the consequences?” I gulp. I didn’t even know this man and yet his words made me want to weep like a baby.  
“Yes.” he said, he did sound sorry, though it was kind of too late. Way, way too late. “I was young and full of dreams, what I did to your mother was unfair and unforgivable.” he continues.  
“Did you love her?” I ask, finding that I actually cared about the answer. I cared that I was conceived under loving circumstances. He stayed silent. “got it.” I say. He hadn’t loved my mother, she had been a fuck. Nothing more. Good to know.   
“Now I really think I need to leave.” I mutter and take a step backwards.  
This time he just nods and says, “if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, you know where to find me.” he tells me.  
I don’t give him the curtesy of an answer – he never gave me one. I just turn around and head out into the street of LA making my way to my favourite coffee shop. ‘Little Miss Mugs.’ It is this adorable little place which sells the best coffee in the world. Like ‘Starbucks’ can suck donkey balls compared to the heavenly drops of ‘little miss mugs’ coffee. I need it. I need coffee. I need to indulge. I need to tear into the bits of a tasty muffin. I, in the word most primal meaning, need it.   
I go in and find the shop mostly deserted. I place myself in a booth at the back. An old woman with white short hair sways over to me. She is dressed in a light pantsuit.   
“What can I get you, Sweet? The regular?” she asks in a sweet voice.   
“Yes please,” I answer kindly, “and one of those muffins over there” I point to a displayer with sweets on it. Fuck the food plan, wasn’t like followed it anyway.   
She strokes my cheek the way only old ladies were allowed, “Coming right up, Sweetheart.” She says, before she sways over behind the desk. When she comes back she places the Full-fat, high caffeine coffee in front of me, along with my requested muffin.   
“Here you go, Sweet.” she says, then she smiles at me like she knows all my secrets, but won’t tell a soul and sways away.   
I drink in peace, slurping down the heavenly drops. I’ll probably be awake for 24 hours now, just fantastic. I put my phone on the table, clicking it to see the time. It comes alive. 14.06 P.M.  
*message from Jamie the bootylicious*   
The name is his a demand of his own, might I add. I swiped in open and clicked the message.  
‘Sam’s heart gave out again.’  
That’s all it said. What? He really thinks he doesn’t need to elaborate that! Really?! My heart pound hard in my chest  
‘Is he..?’ I write.  
My brain keeps repeating the mantra, ‘Oh my god he’s dead’, ‘Oh my god he’s dead’, ‘Oh my god he’s dead’. The answer didn’t come, before two hours late.


	25. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie

Could Sam’s heart just –for the love of god – stop failing? While my brother’s heart is currently still, my own is trying beat its way out of my chest. I pace in front of his room rapidly, trying, with no avail, to calm the fear taking root in my veins. I run my hands though my hair, which is already a complete mess.   
My parents are sitting on a chair, my father holding my mother, their faces otherwise emotionless, other than the heart-breaking pain in their gleaming eyes.   
“The doctors are doing the best they can,” my father says in a low voice. He is talking to my mother, but it sound like he is mostly trying to reassure himself.  
Feeling like I have to do something I whip out my phone from my back pocket, where I go to message and directly to Skye’s name.   
‘Sam’s heart gave out again.’ I write. I need to tell someone. I need to tell someone who isn’t here by my side. I could tell a couple thousand on twitter, but some things I preferred to keep private.   
Cautiously, my mother stretch out her hand towards me, silently pleading me to take it. My pacing must be driving her nuts.   
I grasp it. Then I sit down and hold her, or she holds me. I have no idea. My feet quickly start tapping the linoleum floor. My heart is still trying to outdo itself.   
No one stops me. I guess they understand.   
“Mr and Mrs Bower?” A nurse says, she has just come out of Sam room.   
“Yes,” my mother replies, as her head snap up to meet her. I feel hot all over, and not the good kind of hot.   
“He is alive,” she says, I can see the relief in even her eyes. The liberation which floods my body is so overwhelming; I might just have passed out right then and there. The tension had been so high; I could feel the blood flood back into my tingling limbs.   
“Is he alright?” my father asks.   
“Yes, he is alright, but he is still out,” she informs us, “Unfortunately, we still don’t know how long the coma will last. His body will decide, when to wake up.”   
We all just nod, watching all the doctors clearing out of Sam’s room, hauling an electric heart starter with them.   
I take a deep breath, I instantly feel a lot better. I must have been hyperventilating.   
The nurse looks pitifully at us before she leaves.  
Still shaking slightly I get up from the chair, unwrapping myself from my mother. I go to the door, opening it slowly, peering into the room. It’s quite and the steady beeping has returned.   
Everything’s the same, my brother’s unmoving body, the drawn curtains, the feeling of dreed clouding the room. Everything.   
I go to the bed, taking his fragile hand in mine. His fingertips still rough due to years of playing guitar.   
“Don’t you dare leave me,” I threaten him. He doesn’t react what so ever. That little bastard.  
My parents have followed me into the room, my mother appearing besides me, my father on the opposite side of the bed.   
The silence is deafening. We all stare at his stagnant body.   
Nothing happened. All is the same.   
The same.  
The same.  
The same.   
Movement. In one fluid motion he pulls his hand from my grasp and places it on top of his own stomach.   
Casually an explosion transpires in the room. Yes, casually, we all flinch as if we have seen a giant spider. My father charges out the room, yelling “DOCTOR!” at the top of his lungs.   
My mother and I stand still, not knowing what to do or say, or anything… He had let go of my hand, he had at his own accord opened his own hand and pulled it away! Did this mean he was conscious? Was he awake? Could I shake him? I want to wake him so bad it’s like a physical pain, and I am sure my mother feels the same desire.   
She leans forward placing her hand gently on his cheek, “Sam? Sam, darling?” She mutters sweetly, she isn’t trying to wake him, she is trying to get him to move again. He does. He scratches his nose. He scratches it as if it’s nothing, as if he hasn’t done so for a fortnight.   
Again my heart is beating rapidly, trying to punch its way through my ribcage. But this time an exited and blissful feeling floats through my body. Is he awake?   
A nurse comes charging in, heading straight for the machines on Sam’s side. She watches them for a minute, then turns to Sam, watching him, puts the back of her hand against his forehead. He moves again, just a little. But it’s more movement than we have got for days.   
“It seems he has woken up.” she declares, as if it isn’t obvious, “Now all we have to do is wait for him to wake by himself. But I think he’s out of the woods.” she smiles at us, a genuine smile.   
My mother and father go to talk to her outside, but I sit down on the bed besides Sam.  
For the next two hours I simply watch. As if the small movements my brother does in his sleep, is the most beautiful thing in the whole entire world.   
My parents join my after 15 minutes. Nothing is the same. The curtains have been drawn back, letting the grey sky, fill the room with natural, happy-grey, light. The feeling of dread leaves the room as we watch my brother. He is awake.   
I could charge out the room again, go run, charge over the green grass, screaming at the top of my lungs, but this time it would be in tribute to happiness and hope, not sadness and despair.  
As the second hour draw to an end, I remember my text to Skye and reckon I probably have to elaborate on it. She must be going out of her mind. If not for Sam’s sake, then for me.   
‘He’s out of the woods. He moved! He freaking moved!’ I write. A couple minutes late my phone rings and vibrates, alerting me with a picture of Skye smiles happily out at me.   
“Jamie!” she exclaim immediately when I pick up the phone. I don’t get a chance to even introduce myself, “is he okay? Has he woken up? Are you okay? Please, be okay.” she drones as I get up leaving the relatively quiet room for the hall outside. “I’ve been worried out of my mind!”  
“Hey Skye,” I smile and chuckle at her nervous jabbing, “Yeah, he is gonna wake up, Skye! It’s just a matter of hours.” I can barely believe the words leave my lips.  
“I’m so happy to hear that!” she sighs, “What about you? Are you okay?”   
“I’m fine! More than fine actually, I’m ecstatic!” I squeak, “my brother isn’t gonna die, Skye! What do you think?!”  
“Yeah, I guess that’s a stupid question.” she says shyly. “I am happy he’s okay! the others will be relieved to hear that!”  
I laugh, I never knew something so simply could feel so good. Laughing.   
“How is thing at home?” I ask. “Gone mad yet?” Suddenly feeling like I’ve been gone for ages. It’s only been a couple days..  
“People are hung over.” she says, but as she goes on her voice sound odd and restrained, “all the news really got to people yesterday, we threw ourselves a pity-party.”  
“Oh, are you guys alright?” I ask, I still smile at the thought of my brother, lying conscious, probably dreaming in the next room.   
“We’re fine, hung over but fine.” Her voice sounds strange.   
“Is something wrong, Skye?” I ask.   
“No? Why should anything be wrong?” She reply, but her voice still sounds strange. Too high pitched.   
“Scarlett,-“I say sternly. I know something is up.   
“It’s nothing, nothing is wrong, wrong,” she says wearily,  
“Skye..”  
“No, seriously, go to your brother. Mothing is wrong, and if there was it could wait till you got home.” She dismisses my worry.  
“Skye, you still sound strange..” I repeat my thoughts.  
“It’s nothing.”  
No, what is it, Skye? Something is wrong, isn’t it?” I say, suddenly worrying that the set has gone up in flames or a car has exploded in front of the flats.   
“No! No, everything is fine. Perfect.” She says. “Don’t worry about it.”  
“Skye, you sound weird. Please tell me if something is up..” I plead.  
She is quite.   
“Please, Skye? don’t spare my feeling just because of wwhat happened to my brother. I want to know.”  
She is still silent.   
“Skye?” I mumble. Has the line died?   
Then I hear her sight heavily, “My dad contacted me.” she lets out.   
“What?”   
She repeats.  
“Your dad?”  
“Yup..” she mutters weakly, “High and mighty, baby daddy.”  
That wasn’t exactly what I had expected, “What’d he say?”   
She grunts as if the thought amused her slightly, “He told me, he never loved my mother,” her voice bitter, despite the little laugh she lets out now and again, “but he is sorry for leaving me anyway.” she finishes.  
“Oh...”   
“Mm-hm,” she hums. ”He’s a dick.”  
“Yeah..” I feel like I should say something more, I just don’t know what.   
“Jamie! He has woken up! Jamie!” my mother exclaims from the door.  
“Skye, I am sorry. But..”  
“Jamie come on!” my mother encourage again.   
“Sam just woke up, Skye! I need to go. He has woken up! I'm so sorry! We’ll talk about this soon, okay?” I apologize.   
“It’s okay! Go see you brother! Go give him a big hug from me!” she replies understandingly.   
“I will!”  
“See you soon!” she says, but her voice still high pitched. Whether she knows it or not. I know she is hurting and it tears at me that I have to hang up on her. I don’t want to, but my brother just…   
“Jamie! Come on! He is asking for you!” my mother insists.   
“Yes, see you soon, love!” I end the call. Love? Where the hell did that come from? I race into the room, my heart racing in excitement. My brother is awake! He is not fucking dead!  
“Hey Jamie,” my brother mutters in a low raspy voice. I don’t think I have ever smiled so much and so genuinely. Ever.   
“Hey Sammy.”


	26. P.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

I stand waiting anxiously at the gate, peering over the shoulders of much taller individuals in front of me. My eyes are desperately searching the crow, searching for a blob of blond tousled hair and burning blue eyes. Jamie.   
He’s supposed to be arriving now, Monday the 22 December at 11.35 PM. It is 11.40 and I haven’t seen any blond blob’s which is in any way close to Jamie’s.  
“Looking for me?” I while around facing the familiar voice behind me. I don’t even get to fully register that it is actually him, before I hear the flop of baggage being slumped on the floor and his arms engulfs me tightly.   
His scent hits me like a wave, instantly putting my sense in edge, my skin tingles where his skin touches mine. The effect his presence has an embarrassing effect, but I can’t help it. Or that’s what I am trying to tell myself, as my cheeks suddenly flush. I hug him back just as tightly as he is hugging me, standing on my tiptoes, my arms around his neck. I feel my feet leave the ground as he stand up in his full height. After a couple seconds he releases me but we’re still embraced closely in each other’s arms.   
“You’re blushing?” he asks in bafflement stroking his warm thumb over my hot red cheek. ”You don’t usually do that?” this is half a statement, half a question.  
“Just shut it and kiss me,” I mutter and he huffs, smiling as he plants a kiss on my lips which quickly must have become a little too passionate for the onlookers. I don’t care.   
Reluctantly our lips detach, after we have for sure reached the time limit for public smooching. Then suddenly I feel it, that presses in between my shoulder blades, where I simply know, someone is watching us, someone other than uncomfortable by-passers. Paparazzi’s, the madness have started, though Jamie seems unfazed by it. I shake, trying to make the feeling disappear. It doesn’t.   
“You look happy,” I state, regarding at the cheeky grin Jamie is shooting me. I can’t help but smiling just as cheekily back at him. I must be in love… Fuck…  
“I am,” he says in a hushed voice only meant for me. “You’re here and my brother is going to be alright.” His hand travels to my jaw where he cups it in his hand, placing his thumb sensually over my lips, pressing slightly in, gliding it down. The ripples of erotic tension vibrate through my body, leaving me speechless. I wish we’re alone, so I could act on the bold images in my head. “I couldn’t be happier.” he concludes.  
Then he places another kiss on me lips and my cheeks turn - if possible – even more crimson. His power over my body is embarrassing. I am not one to blush. But it seems Jamie is the only one who simply draws out the rosy cheeks.   
“We should get going,” I mumble as he finally releases me. I have no say in the matter, I am glued to his lips for as long as he wishes it. When have it come to this? I a mess! Man up! No, woman up, Skye! Be your own wind-bearer or whatever Rachel said in that episode of friends you watched before you left for the airport. Did that even apply to this situation? I don’t know… The lovy – dovy – ness of it all must be going to my head. “It’s late.”  
He nods, “Yeah, brilliant idea.” Slowly we detach from each other, and Jamie picks up his bag with one hand, strapping it over his shoulder, before entwining his other hand with mine. Then we head out to the car and drive home. We didn’t talk about my father showing up or how it felt to have your brother almost die several times over a weekend. It was late and the gloomy subjects could wait for now.   
We talk about how things are coming together on set, how Patrick has to stop challenging Rhys in various physical activities, about how Evelyn almost always want to rip off everybody’s head, as they never listens to her.   
30 minutes later we arrive at the flats and we tiptoe into my room, carefully trying not to wake anyone. They knew Jamie was coming home, but positively everyone had needed the sleep after Saturday’s drinking extravaganza. Everybody, but Rob.   
Suddenly all the light in the small hall next to my room gets flicked on, blinding both Jamie and myself. I yelp, squinting.  
“Hey guys!” An Irish voice chirps.   
“Turn down the light, Sheehan! It’s blinding!” I squeak.  
“I just wanted to say hallo to my biggest fan!” Sheehan says in almost childlike confusion.  
Jamie trots forward gripping Robert Sheehan in a tight hug, clasping each other on the back.  
“Good to see you, mate” Sheehan says, worry for Jamie’s wellbeing genuine and audible in his voice. Sheehan might joke around a lot, but he has the biggest heart in the world.   
“Good to see you too.” Jamie responds.  
After that we quietly part, Robert goes across the hall to his own flat. We have an early rise tomorrow, all of us have. It is the first day of shooting.   
Though Jamie and I doesn’t quite fall asleep when we find ourselves in bed. We engulf in other very pleasing activities…  
***  
The next couple weeks are one big hell storm of shooting, training and trying not to go mad from it all instigated. This turns out to be more difficult than first anticipated.   
My twitter is being bombarded with fan activity, both love and hate. So is all the other casts’ social media. I have more than once simply forgotten my phone at home; otherwise I might have gone on it during the day, where I would have been bound to see a hate comment.   
The little piece of text would then lead to the ruining of my day. So one day I literally threw my phone of a cliff when I was out jogging. I thought, ‘problem solved.’ Eh.. Not really… Turns out people get mad when they can’t get a hold of you.   
The phone vs. the cliff incident is now two weeks ago and I’ve got a new phone or two actually, one for my twitter, one for everything else. That’s what I call productive problem solving!  
We shot at all hours. More than once we’d had to get up at 3 AM or stay at set all night. It is seriously hard work to then also keep up the training, so – especially the shadowhunter crew – we could do the fight scenes.   
All the ferocious activity I am left drained and on the edge of passing out when I get home. Same thing goes for Jamie and all the others. Before we started shooting we had gone out, visited people, had fun. Now we barely talked after a long day of shooting. We all just slept. We slept like freaking babies.  
I gather Jamie must be having it worse than any of us; he constantly travels between LA and Copenhagen to go see his recovering brother, and simply be around his family. But at the same time he is trying to keep his job. The tight grip he has on his life must be balancing on a knife-edge, total chaos and oblivion to either side.   
We have shot the pilot and were a good part into the second episode, when the P.R manager walked over to us one day during shooting, and told Jamie and I that we were going on Ellen to talk about the show and just generally starting to promote the whole thing. Add another layer of stress, now I had to talk to millions of people though a TV screen… Fantastic!   
I am most likely going to make a complete arse out of myself, but I guess the interviewing and promoting comes with the job, so I just got to suck it the fuck up. But it doesn’t mean I am not beyond terrified.   
***  
“Look up,” the woman - Becky, I think her name is – demands, she wields the mascara making my eyes seem even bigger, “Now look at me.” I look at her; she does her make-up artist thing.   
After a couple minutes of being poked in the eyes and getting about 50 types and brushes swung in my face, she finally declares me done.   
I stand up on my 7 inch black heels and walk over to the big mirror off to the side. I am in the waiting room at Ellen Degeneres show, and so is Jamie. The room is very bright, cream coloured walls, white sofas, wooden flooring.   
“When are we to go on?” I ask Becky, she glances at her watch for a second.  
“In 15 minutes,” she tells me, “right after Ellen has done her monologue.”   
“Oh.”  
“Nervous?” she asks, detection my anxiousness. I nod. “First big interview?” she guessed again.  
“Jup.”  
“Just relax. Ellen will be nice, she always is and if she isn’t you can always hide behind Jamie. That guy seems to know how to shoulder a prank.” she tries to comfort me. Again I just nod.   
She smiles reassuringly at me and leaves the room, taking all the makeup with her.   
A couple minutes later Jamie comes in the door. He looks dashing, his blond hair all ruffled, a black Michael Jackson hat seated firmly on the fair locks. He is wearing dress pants and a marine blue button down with a black vest matching his trousers on top.   
I myself, is in a tightfitting dress, showing of every curve my body owns, which isn’t that little. A couple of months ago, I would never have agreed to wear a dress like this one, but after all the rigours training, I felt confident enough to do it. It is a really good feeling.   
The dress is a red cocktail dress, practically inked to my skin. It was strapless, going straight over my chest, short ‘sleeves’ wrapping wound the middle of my arms, showing of my back and shoulders. It stops just over my knee, the length making to seem classy instead of slutty.   
“Wau!” To my pleasure his jaw is slag, eyes open wide.  
I smirk, “I know.” then I twirl for him, ending with my hand on my hip, which is jutted to the side. “I look daaamn fiine!” I sound like a home girl from down town Connecticut.   
Jamie laughs, “Oh, behave yourself!” his tone is teasing. Things have gotten a lot better with between Jamie and me the last couple week. We didn’t go around cheating or make unbelievingly stupid decisions as we had when we first arrived. But I wouldn’t say we fully trusted each other either. I didn’t trust him the way I used to. The way I am supposed to.   
One little thing kept nagging at the back of my head. Kept nagging and nagging and nagging. The little detail he had reviled to me over twitter. The little tinsy detail.  
He had kissed Lily.   
He had kissed LILY at that party! Of all the girls in the room! Out of all of them, he picked HER! The one girl I am most terrified of. The one girl I can’t hold one candle to, the one girl everybody wants to replace me with. ‘We want Lily back! We want lily back!’   
Yeah well it seems you aren’t the only ones, darling TMI fans! You aren’t the only ones…  
Most of the time, I try not to dwell in my own depressive mind. I’d go nuts if I did.  
I shake myself, trying to snap out of the oncoming misery.  
He is here with you now. Not her. That’s all that matters, I tell myself.  
I smile timidly, my confidence evaporating, “you don’t look bad yourself.”  
Jamie cross the floor in two long strides and suddenly his arms envelop my body, his mouth placed firmly against mine, “everyone’s gonna be looking at you.” he mutters as he realises me.  
“Thanks! Now that doesn’t make me at all nervous!” I know it was supposed to be a compliment, but currently I am freaking the fuck out. I am about to go on Ellen for the first time in my life. I have become one of those people. It both excites me because this means I have reached my dream, it also terrify me beyond comprehension for obvious reasons. One of them being the fact that I cannot hide behind a character, I have to be myself…  
“Just calm down, Skye. I am sure they’ll love you,” Jamie kindly tries to reassure me.   
“No, you’re gonna love you, and possibly try and throw tomatoes at me.”  
“I don’t think that’s allowed.”  
“Then they’re gonna wish they had tomatoes to throw at me.” I persist.  
“No they’re not. I am gonna make sure of that.”   
“Not even you got that kind of power,” I mutter gloomily.  
“I don’t think you know me very well then.”  
I am still totally convinced of the inevitable tomato throwing contest. Good thing I am wearing red.   
***  
“My next guests are coming directly from the institute of New York, of course I am talking about the new TV show we’ve all heard so much about, called shadowhunters. And here with me I have their leads stars, Jamie Campbell Bower and Skye Delaney!” Ellen introduces us. I see the green light flash on and Jamie and I simultaneously start forward.   
When I hit the stage that first thing I notice is the lights. Hard, blindingly, white light is staring intensely at me almost shielding the audience. Then the roar as people clap and cheer.   
Don’t fall, Skye. Just don’t bloody fall.   
I trot over the wooden floor and up onto the carpeted podium - praying to god the heels won’t fail me - to where a smiling Ellen Degeeneres is doing one of her spectacular dances. She stops and comes to greet us. She shakes my hand and gives me a small hug. Her calm aura in the lunacy reflects onto me, taking the edge of my nerves. She knows what she is doing, that woman can chat for days on end. She does this for a living. I’ll be fine! I take a deep breath and inhale her perfume. Did I smell oranges?   
“Good to meet you!” she chirps, as she releases me and shuffle over to hug Jamie. He gives her one of his ‘Jamiehug’, though I don’t know if she notices the sincerity of his hug compared to so many others. Maybe it’s just me …  
We sit down in a white double two-person couch, me nearest Ellen, Jamie so close to me that our thighs are almost touching.   
“Hello, “Ellen starts, “good to have you here.”   
So unfortunately for the moment I have gone mute. Excuse me while I gawk mortified at you, Ellen.  
“Good to be here,” Jamie says in a raspy voice, just slightly deeper than the one he regularly used.   
“It’s good to see you,” Ellen says, I manage a smile. Ellen quickly guides the conversation to more interesting topics. “So you guys are doing the new show call the shadowhunters, is that correct?”  
“Head on, we’re in the middle of shooting, the pilot has already been shot, and we’re a good into the third episode by now.” Jamie chats on easily. His hand is placed carefully on my thigh, his thumb stoking softly on the soft material of the dress.   
“Oh that’s great!” She smiles, her eyes sparkles and I can’t help but feel like it’s genuine. They sparkle too much for it to be fake. “You guys are the main couple aren’t you?”  
“Yes, I play Jace Wayland. He’s a shadowhunter, which is like warrior, and he pretty much uses all his late nights slaying demons.”  
Without thinking I let out words, or word-vomit most likely, “you guys should see him, he kicks some serious arse.”   
Ellen smiles and turns to me, happy for my input, “Do you have any shirtless scenes?” she is smirking, humour in her blue eyes. She is teasing us. That much I can tell.  
Jamie follows suit, giving her exactly what she is seeking, gossip, “only off screen for now.”   
This makes the crowd giggle and everybody turns into tomatoes. Let’s make tomatoes the fruit of the day. 20th of December, the tomato day.   
“Now I don’t think I should have said that!” Jamie exclaims, his eyes huge globes, “there is kids watching! Oh gosh!”  
Ellen is still laughing, “don’t worry.” she calms him, “you’re alright! I have shirtless men trotting around from time to time.”  
“Oh.? ah?” Jamie stutters, not sure what he’s supposed to say. Ellen waves him off.  
“So, Skye!” she turns to me again, still smiling. The woman smiles to much it’s actually sort of scary. “You’re new to Hollywood aren’t you?”  
“Yes!” I exclaim, “Very much! I am still taking the wrong turns when driving. I’ve seen a lot of the city that way! Sometimes I still have trouble arriving on set on time. Nerve ragging I tell you! those roads” I am sort of rambling, though no one seems to care. I can feel their eyes digging into my skin, examining my body, lingering at my every word. Somehow this makes me feel powerful.   
“I hope you find your way?” Ellen says, I can tell she is faking her astonishment, my story aren’t as good as she makes it seem.  
“Obviously. I am here now aren’t I? I took several the wrong turn on the way here, but I made it!” Ellen smiles, laughs. And then shift her body so that it’s clear to everyone, it’s okay to change the subject now.   
“You’re playing the main character in the shadowhunters, right?” she asks.  
“Indeed. I am playing Clary Fray.”  
“Please tell us a little bit about her!”   
“Well clary is this young girl living in New York with her mom, her dad has never really been in the picture. She basically thinks she is a normal teenage girl. Or that’s until her mother disappear under mysterious circumstances and she teams up with this squad of – as she comes to learn – shadowhunters to get her mother back. It’s basically an epic, fantasy adventure with love and drama and badarse fighting!” I tell them all.  
Then Jamie then comes with his impute, “I am of course the one doing most of this” he makes air quotes, ““badarse” fighting.”  
“That sounds exiting! We can’t wait to see it!”   
Then Jamie does the promotion thing McG, the producer, asked us to do. ”All you have to do is tune in on ABCfamily the 5 of Janurary 2016!”   
“I’ll make sure too!” Ellen assures us.   
“So, you’re both from England?”  
“Born and breed,” Jamie confirms. I nod.   
“How are your families taking all this? I know you’ve done this kind of thing before, Jamie. You were in the movie, City of bones”  
“Yes, I was. It kind of flopped though, so I was very lucky to get in on the show. Didn’t think I’d get it again.” Jamie chatters. “My family is ecstatic. My brother actually asked me to get Scarlet Johansson autograph if I ever met her.”  
“Have you?” Ellen asks, “Met her that is?”  
“No, unfortunately I’ve never had the pleasure.” Jamie smiles and giggles.  
“We’ll have to arrange that!” Ellen says, “for your brother that is, I’ve heard he’s been in an accident? Is he okay?”  
“He woke up from a coma 3 tree weeks ago, but luckily he is recovering quickly. He is already at home driving my mother nuts. See he’s broken both his legs, so he can’t really move around, so my mother has to help him all the time. Sometimes I wish the coma took him, with the way my mother is glaring at him.” Jamie is obviously joking, his exterior makes that very obvious, “it’s all good though. He is surviving!”  
“I hope your mother will live though it!” Ellen grins. I only know one person who can turn his brother being in a coma to something to joke about. Jamie.   
“I hope so too! I’ll need to buy her a big chunk of chocolate for her troubles.” Jamie adds as an afterthought.   
“Yes, I think that will be in its place!” then she turns to me, seamlessly guiding the conversation, “how about your parents, Skye? How are they taking it?”  
This is one of the questions I was dreading the most. I can’t answer that without getting ‘pity – glares’ in bucket loads.   
So I lie. Why? Because tell the world your mother has no idea your half way on the other side of the planet doing a hit TV show for ABC, doesn’t really seem to be socially acceptable. For another thing, my dad situation is still so messed up, I can only try to pretend she hasn’t even asked about him. Maybe with a little luck, I’ll get away with it.  
“My mother is very excited for me and wishes me all the luck in the world.” I tell her shortly, hoping she wouldn’t pry.  
“That’s great!” Ellen smiles, “what about your dad?” Bint….  
“Ehm, “ I choke and cough, I feel Jamie hand squeeze my thigh.  
“I am sorry, I can’t keep the secret!” Ellen smiles knowingly at me. “I know you’ve never met your dad.” she informs me.   
“You do?”  
“He contacted me yesterday and told me he’d like to meet you.” she is smiling like she is telling me Christmas has come four days early.  
“He did?” I have to stop staring at her. Snap out of it, Skye!  
“Yes, it has come to our attention that you have never met him.” how?  
“Oh?”  
Suddenly Jamie wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, “somebody is a little cought of guard!” he shields me from the crowd, knowing that I’m probably going out of my mind. Which I am.   
“Yeah..” I breath, faking a small smile.  
Unfortunately Ellen takes this as encouragement, “Actually,” that doesn’t sound good. “he is here right now.” Shit. There can’t possibly be anything else to say to that.  
Either my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest or it’s not beating at all. I can’t tell. I don’t think I am breathing though.  
The crowd is ooing and awwwing and whispering intensely amongst each other. This is new. This is something else. Ellen doesn’t spring things like this on people. She is usually all fun and games. What going on? There is something fishy about all this.   
She goes on, “Actually he is out back.” then I realise it. It’s not her. It’s my father. My father set this up. He is millionaire, he could make anything happen. Ellen’s eyes are shining apologetically, but she keeps the charade going. I decided to act along, then I can rip Mr. – fucking – Marlowe’s head of after the cameras has been turned off.   
“Can I see him?” I force myself to say. I really want to hit something. Hard. But instead I feign curious bewilderment.   
“Come on then,” Ellen tells me as she grips my hand and heaves me from my seat. I can see the worry in Jamie’s face, though it’s thoroughly covered up with – yeah, something else.   
We get scrambled out back, a camera following close behind. She leads us back to the changing rooms, almost sneaking. I act along. So does Jamie. I want to scream.   
“He’s in there,” she informs me, and before I get a second chance the plain white door opens and my father steps out. Tall, red, curly hair, his eyes the mirror of my own, his face though manly a close resemblance to mine. Cole Reed Marlowe.   
“Hallo baby girl,” he says as if we have never in our entire lives met. “Good meeting you.”  
“Hi dad,” I manage, the word dad burning my tongue. Of all the things he is, he is not my dad. I don’t have one, I prefer it that way. All he is, was a shot of sperm.   
What does he want now? It can’t possibly be good.


	27. Fleeing the country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

“What are you doing here?” I ask in a little too high pitched voice. I may or may not be going out of my mind. First of all; what the bloody fuck is he doing here? Second of all; what does he exactly think, he is doing, pulling a stunt like this?   
I am on the edge of my seat, just itching to know. Last I saw this man he told me he didn’t actually like my mother, but eh he didn’t mind me as much. What am I supposed to say? Thanks dad? I think not…  
He had told me he’d give me time to adjust, and that I could call him if I ever had it in my stone cold heart to forgive him. I’d just like to ask; what the hell happened to that plan? All he is, was a shot of sticky sperm.  
“I came here to see you sugar hoops.” Sugar hoops? What?   
I can’t do it. I can’t act along with whatever he’d arranged. I just can’t. Pretending to be some sweet girl from the suburbs, when I am really not, is nothing I am striving for.   
“Excuse me, but what?” my tone of voice is changed so dramatically, the goofy atmosphere in the room turns to shock. Disbelief and loathing fills my sight and tone. My father is staring at me, his eyebrows in his hair. Almost.  
“What’s wrong, baby bear.” he coos.  
“Cut the crap, Cole.” huh that rimes… that is what you call assonance.. I think… “We both know this isn’t exactly our first meet up.” I sound bored to my own ears, like I am tired of it all. I am.   
“What are you talking about, my dear?” he tries to put his hand on my cheek, but I swap it away with a hard precise blow. His hand falls to his side.  
“Enough!” I turn to Ellen, who is still standing behind me, “Okay listen. This man..” I point to Cole behind me, “while he is my father.. I think.. He could be an imposer for all I know. But I actually met him a couple weeks ago and he told me I was a sorry mistake on his part.” I pause, gathering myself, listening to the roar of silence. I know for a fact, that it’s live broadcasting, so they’re getting everything. “I have no intentions of getting to know him, not for anyone else’s pleasure but my own. And being abandoned by someone who calls themselves your father, well.. That isn’t exactly going to make you all fuzzy inside, now is it?”  
Ellen is staring at me with blue wide eyes, it doesn’t seem like she is going to say anything. So I turn to the camera.   
“So let me clear things up. Firstly, while this man is my father, don’t try to contact him for scoops on me, he knows nothing of me or my life. If you call him, I’d be just the same as calling the store manager at home depot.   
Secondly, on a totally different note, I did not kiss Tom Hiddleston! For the love of sweet baby Jesus, he kissed me and we’re fine now, it didn’t work. He for one is 10 or 11 years older than me, and for another he is more of a friend sort of material. Got it?” I sigh and turn to Ellen again, “I am honoured to have been on your show, but if you ever agree to pull a stunt like this again. That’d be the end of it. Now excuse me, I have a Christmas to celebrate.”  
Then I grasp Jamie’s hand, tugging him with me to the parking lot where we quickly get in the jeep we borrowed from Godfray, but we’re stopped by a voice.  
“Scarlett, wait!”   
I turn it’s my “father” running after us. It seems that he has abandoned his herd of loyal puppets. I take the foot back which had been in the car back and stand to face him. Jamie is already in the car, peering out from the passenger’s seat.   
“What do you want? I told you, I done with you.” again I sound bored and annoyed.   
“I’ve lied to you, Scarlett.” he confesses, “I feel like you should know.”  
“Oh, surprise! The abandoning father lies.” I feign surprise in a high squeaky voice marking him, only to suddenly stop and stare angrily at him, my feigned humour gone “I don’t care, Cole.”  
“I’m not you father, Skye.” He lets out. Oh.  
“What?”  
“I’m not your father.” he repeats. My mind is working at a snail’s pace.   
“I heard you,” I say, “If you’re not, then who is?”   
“Your father is gone, Skye.” I blink, what? “He’s been gone for 23 years. I’m your uncle, your father’s twin brother.” thanks for the info….  
I am pretty sure my jaw has dropped.  
“Your father never had good luck with cars.. Never did..” Cole’s eyes darken, as if he sudden saw reminiscents of the past. “He rode himself into tree, before you were born.”   
“Why are you telling me this? No, better yet, why did you pretend to be my father and how can I know that you aren’t lying now?”  
“You can ask your mother she knows.”  
“That woman hasn’t answered any of my questions since I was three!” I speak with venom in my voice, “I don’t think she’ll ever give me any answers.”  
“Then you’ll have to trust me.”  
“Yeah,” I give him a thumbs up and a ugly grimace. “That’s a little farfetched, isn’t it? What was the point, of that..” I nod my head towards the big beige building we just fled, “Why the big charade? I don’t see the point.”  
Cole corrects his collar and sleeve nonchalantly, “Right now, they’re airing a commercial. My commercial, It’s a big. If goes as planned I will never have to work again.”  
“So I was pawn, is that it?” My breathing is hollow. It is beyond my comprehension that people, people who calls themselves my family, would stoop to using me like that.  
“Smart girl.”  
“You know, you’re pretty darf yourself.” I smile and giggle at him, the kind of giggle that makes you sound nuts. “Arranging this whole show, when you just have asked me, to help you.”  
“Skye, lets go. He is not with it.” Jamie warns behind me. A camera crew is rushing towards us.   
I stare at the man, who is probably the mirror of real father; I feel a piece fall from my chest to my stomach. Even if my real father is dead, it changes nothing. It didn’t matter if my father is dead or alive, he still won’t have a place in my life. He is dead to me either way.   
“You’re right.” I turn and get in the car, and just before close door I say, “I don’t ever want to see you again, Cole. So I really hope it was worth it.” I shut the door hard and then we drive to the flats, gather our things, before we quickly evacuate ourselves across the pond, to London. It doesn’t hit me what I have done, what have happened, before we’re well out of the country.   
***  
Okay, it isn’t because London is all that better than LA, but it is. It really is. It’s down to earth, the architecture is old and everything is more solid, less fleeing. In LA everything seems to change from one day to the next, heck! Even from one minute to the next. In London everything is solid, unchangeable. It’s how I like things.   
Growing up my mother had always wanted me to change. Change, change, change. She had wanted it so badly I have ended up despising that word. Or no... I like change if I anticipate it, on the other hand if it grabs me and hurl me into a wall, as change usually does, I am less pleased.   
Therefore, I have found that London is my safe heaven. Nothing really changes and if it does you can normally see it coming at a thousand miles off.   
Small day to day unanticipated events didn’t bother me, like when I forget my phone, or when I had to chime down Brad because I was absolutely positive I had left my straightening iron on. These thing are nice, it keeps thing from becoming completely dull. My “father” showing up and then continuing to “surprise me” on a live talk show, and as the tip on the freaking iceberg then informing me my actual father is dead and he is his twin… Now that went under the bad kind of change. I feel like I am on an episode of the Vampire Diaries, or something equally dramatic.   
So, I ran back to “Little London”, with its Thames and old heavy stone buildings, perched so neatly by the sidewalks. I ran home.   
Jamie and I had left LA in a hurry, for one thing it was the 20th of December, four or five(depending on where you’re from) days till Christmas and for another we have a break from shooting all the way till the 3rd of January. Jamie told me he’d elope back to his family, spend Christmas at his parents’ house, so he wouldn’t stay in London for more than a day.   
To my surprise he’d asked me if I wanted to come with him, meet his family and maybe spend Christmas at his house. He knows enough about my family history by now to gather that I am not going to spend Christmas at my mother’s – and most definitely not my father’s, or uncles should I say. My dad is dead. Huh. Still funny.   
I told Jamie I would spend Christmas with him, if I could bring Brad.  
I had others than myself to consider during the holydays, one of them being him. Every year since I turned 18, Brad and I had carried out our own Christmas celebrations, complete with loads of booze, cheesy Christmassy chick flicks, Ben&Jerry and an obligatory game of truth and dare. Oh the Christmas spirit!   
Jane is the only one in our little household with a somewhat functioning family; she usually spends Christmas with her aunt Susan up in the north of England; Jane’s mother having died of cancer at the age 34, sending Jane’s father into an everlasting depression. Talk about a cruel fate.   
Brad’s family life wasn’t much better. His father is to put it straight, is a loud and proud alcoholic. No one knows why, not even Brad. One day his old man simply started drinking, and then he just never stopped. It drove away his mother, leaving Brad to fend for himself against what turned out to be a violent homophobic drunk.   
We’re a household of sad stories…  
I wasn’t going to leave Brad on Christmas, if he couldn’t come with me to Jamie’s, I’d stay at our little flat with him. He’s had enough people abandoning him in his life and I’m not exactly unfamiliar with the feeling.   
Jamie had told me that of course he could come, the more the merrier. Jamie is fond of Brad, even though he is usually cringe worthily awkward and has got a tendency to thrive of germs.   
Brad had charged us at the door when we had arrived, hugging me so tightly I thought I just might suffocate. I could instinctively tell he had been lonely. Not that he wasn’t alone on a regular basis, but he always had either me or Jane interrupting him, knocking on his door, or calling him at four in the morning because whatever or whoever we’d done, suddenly hadn’t seemed like such a great idea anymore. Brad told me Jane eloped to the north 3 days ago and he’d thought he would be alone on Christmas if we hadn’t arrived. Honestly I too would have been a little miserable if I was looking forward to a lonesome Christmas.   
Jamie hadn’t bothered going home to his own flat since we had arrived at one in the morning, so he slept in my bed. Nothing happened; we were too exhausted by the traveling to be frisky in the sheets. We had just, pretty much, passed out on top of each other.   
The next day we had stroked into Brad’s Toyota and took off into England’s countryside.   
***  
The house is huge. I have spent my life, first in a tiny suburban house and next in an even tinier flat in London. I am used to feeling slightly claustrophobic; so seeing the big house and the vast masses of open space Jamie grew up in, takes my breath away. It is a farm - sort of. There are no animals or crops, just a big house, with a hard red brick walls and neat thatch roofing. Two stories high with small widows in front, which glowed with lovely yellow light, even though it’s barely two in the afternoon. It is as homey as any house gets. A garage connects to the main house, and you can see a French terrace to the left. The whole house is lifted onto porch so it doesn’t stand exactly on the ground, though there is no roofing over it as you would usually see on a western house.   
I drag my heavy luggage up the front steps, the crunching under me feet, turning to the clatter of stone as I walk up on the porch. Jamie is in front of me, with Brad trailing close behind us. Jamie doesn’t knock as I thought he would, he simply swings open the door, shouting, “Madmen in the house!”   
As I walk inside, the first thing that hit’s me is the smell of home cooked food. It’s intoxication. Next is the fact that Brad accidentally drops his luggage into my foot, making my yelp, forcing me to jump up and down on one leg in the small hall, clutching my throbbing foot.  
“So that’s who all the fuss has been about,” I hobble around to face the amused voice. It belongs to a rather scrawny, blond boy in a wheelchair. He looks a lot like Jamie. He has the same blond hair, though it’s seems slightly darker at the roots, his face marbled after the same slim features and facets. A miniature Jamie.   
Jamie’s smile lights up his eyes as he trots over to stand behind his brother, since both his brother’s legs are lying suspended in casts.   
“Sam, meet Skye.” he introduces, “Skye, this is my brother, Samuel.” I drop my foot gingerly and gently step forward testing for chronic injuries. I’ll live.   
“Hey. Nice to meet you.” I say, shaking his outstretched hand.   
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Sam so kindly informs me, “this one,“ he jerks his head back at Jamie, since his other arm is also in a cast, “haven’t stopped droning about you. I was starting to wonder who all the fuss was about, but now I get it.”  
I raise an eyebrow, huh? I let go of his hand.   
But before Sam gets around to actually respond to my quizzical expression, a woman looking about mid-forties coos, “They’re here” they’re here!” very loudly. I freeze for a second as I suddenly find myself engulfed in a tight clutch by a tall woman with greying hair. “I’ve heard so much about you!” she clasps onto my shoulders. The woman has dark blue eyes, but her shapely face, closely resembles the one of her two boys. Rather narrow face, high cheekbones, full lips and a smile which lit up the room.   
“Oh?”  
She laughs, “All good things of course! I was scared we’d never meet the mysterious Skye.”  
I smile shyly, “It’s nice to meet you Mrs Bower.”   
“Ooh, please! Call me Anne! It makes me sound like such an old crow when people call me Mrs. Bower.”  
“Mom..” Sam teases, ”it’s because you are-“ Sam doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Mrs. Bower – or Anne sends him a stealthy glare. Sam mutters some absolute nonsense and then says, “-so radiant… How could anyone ever think of you as an old crow.”  
“Jamie wheel off your brother, before I accidentally chop him up and put him in the oven.“ His mother demands, her tone is oddly playful, yet stern. Jamie snickers quietly, while Sam looks rather bashful, but Jamie rolls him away none the less.  
Then Mrs. Bower – I’m still feeling in a little weird referring to her as Anne – suddenly seem to acknowledge Brad’s existence.  
“Oh! You must be Skye’s friend!” Brad shifts on his feet, staring timidly at the orang-y wooden floor. “What was it your name was again dear? Bran was it?” she grasps Brad outstretched hand between both of her own.  
“Brad,” he corrects and Mrs Bower smiles and then squeezes Brad’s hand, realising he’s a very awkward soul.   
“You’re very welcome here.” she assures him, “you both are.”   
“Mom, I think we all would like to get settled, before you start making a welcome toast.” Jamie says as he strolls back through an arched doorway. I can see a comfortable looking sofa and a coffee table, though the room is mostly dominated by a grand piano.   
“Of course! You must be tired after the long drive!” she exclaims padding down her hair, which seemed to have the same recklessness about it as Jamie’s. “Go clean yourselves up, there’ll be lunch soon.” she tells us, then turns and passes through a wooden door to the right, which emanates the delirious intoxication smells. Foooood….  
“Brad, you’ll be staying the guest room.” Jamie informs us as we pace up the stairs, and turn down a long hallway. “Skye you’ll be staying with me.” Then he smiles and adds, “if you’re up for it.” he wraps the arm, that isn’t holding his bag around my shoulders and nuzzles his face in my hair and neck, giving me a small peck on my jaw.  
“I swear, I won’t refrain from giving either of you an overdose, if you wake me in the middle of the night.” Brad tells us flatly, the way he always does when he is joking.  
“Keep the pills at the ready, Braddy.” Jamie pokes his tonguw out at him.  
Brad scoffs and gags.   
We turn another corridor and then Jamie stops and turns to Brad behind us, “this will be your room, try not to jerk off on the sheets, it’s impossible to get off.”  
“I would come up with a witty comeback, but honestly… it doesn’t seem worth it..” Brad sighs, as he hauls is backs in the room and den waves at his as he closes the door.   
“Come,” Jamie clasps my hand and we turn and go around the same corner back to the staircase, and down it again, till we’re at the bottom floor, “I have one end of the house to myself,” he tells me as we walk through an almost pitch back corridor, then I hear a door being opened and the lights being switch on and suddenly I am standing in what seems to an old garage.   
“What is this place?”  
“My room.”  
“It connects to the house?” I ask stupid. Obviously it does.   
“Yes, it’s the old garage,” Jamie says as he flops down on a big comfortable looking bed with blue bedding and a grey comforter. The room is clean, but boyish. Dark grey carpet covers the floor, probably covering up hard asphalt. The walls are grey underneath right about a thousand band posters and regular photos all containing different faces. One wall is dominated by a garage port. Right by the door is a black wooden desk with a big chair in front, tattered looking instruments are placed at random the trough the whole room. In the middle is a big dark clunky coffee table with a cactus and lots of papers strewn on it. As I walk closer I see it is songs, lyrics. “My father ‘threw’ me out here when I turned 14, been my place ever since.” Jamie goes on. “It’s great actually; they can’t hear a sound from the living room. It gives a lot of ehnm…” he swallows quickly getting up from the bed and walks up to stand behind me, his arms inclosing me, “..Freedom.” He nuzzles his face in my neck, his breathing tickling my skin.   
“Oh? How so?” I can already feel my cheeks glow and the familiar tug in my lower regions.   
“For one, I can do anything I want with you,” his voice is husky, sensual, his mouth at me ear. Carefully gracing the tip. “I can make you scream my name,“ I lean into him feeling his already evident excitement against my lower back. His one hand goes under my shirt slowly sliding up my stomach painfully slow. The other lingers at the hem of my trousers. Electricity pulses from where his hands touch me, “I can make you moan and make bow off the bed. Take you hard against the wall. Fuck you silly.” Oh my… Painfully, vivid images flood my tired head. Making it go fuzzy. All I want is for his hand to touch me. Touch me all over. Make truth out of his rather filthy and yet excruciatingly exciting words.   
“Please..” I mutter leaning even further into him, his hand trails up and under by bra, he tweaks the nipple firmly. I can’t help my whimper. He growls in my ear, it’s possibly one of the sexiest sounds in the world.   
“Is this what you want?” he tweaks it again, and the sensation vibrate though my body.  
“Yes please…” I am lost, gone. This is it, I am reduce to a little sex slave. All it took was for him to touch my skin. Great.   
“I want you to touch me,” I plead rather pathetically, but I don’t care. He caresses my skin on my lower stomach, sending sparks to my throbbing crotch.   
“Where?” He growls.  
“Everywhere.”  
“Where do you want me the most;” he is kissing up and down my neck, his hand squeezing my breast, his other hand ‘inching lower and lower agonisingly slow. ”Tell me how you want me. Tell me where.” He presses himself against me.   
A chill run up my spine as his hand slowly slips under the boundary of my trousers. Firmly he cups by already soaked womanhood. I moan. Oh god, yes…  
Then, unfortunately, there’s a hard knock on the door, “Dinner you two!” a masculine voice yells. Thankfully, the door hasn’t been opened, but Jamie and I flinch, jumping apart, staring gingerly at the floor at our feet.   
“Coming,” Jamie answers a bit too loudly, his voice hoarse. Then he sighs, a slight flush has appeared on his cheeks. I hear footsteps on the other side of the door, heading away.   
“Oh, to feel 14 again,” I joke, as if it’s a time I am missing. The sneaking around, the jumping whenever you heard footsteps by your door, because you have a boy in your room, which your mother doesn’t exactly approve off. Oh, old times!  
Jamie doesn’t answer. He just cross small distance between us and gently pull me to him, his right hand on my lower back, the other cupping my face, his forehead gently pressed to mine.  
“We’ll have to finish this another time,” he rumbles, placing a butterfly lips on my lips. I can feel his semi-hard bulge against my stomach.  
“Oh will we now…“ I smile and capture his lips again, deepening the kiss. He inhales, clutching me tighter to him before slowly and reluctantly letting go.   
“Okay, now we really have to go.” then he grasps my arm and halls me out to my doom. Dinner with the boyfriend’s family… Not exactly my strong suit.   
I check myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the end of the bed. I’m wearing black Dr Denim skinny jeans a black tank top with a thick, knitted sweater in dark red wool over it. My hair is a messy, after having spent an hour in a car, and the makeup I for one had put on are more or less on my cheeks rather than my eyelashes. Bloody fantastic!   
I try whipping it away, but it sticks. Fucking waterproof…  
I give up, and follow Jamie into what will sure be my doom.


	28. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

“Do they know that we’re together?” I question Jamie, when I finally give up and follow him down the hall.  
“Yeah, they do. I told them last I was here.” this was last week.   
“How did they take it? Do they hate me?” I sputter; Jamie’s parents would be the second pair of parents I’ve ever met, two and a half if you include my own. Or two and three quarters? How much does a sad excuse for an uncle count for?  
“Why would they hate you?” Jamie eyebrow is furrowed together in wonder.   
“AAhh, I don’t know. Parents just do, they see me as bad news, I guess.” I quickly ask something else, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to dwell too much on the thoughts of parents. “What’s your father’s name?”  
“Uhm, David.” Jamie replies, obviously distraught. I nod, just as we round another corner, go through the arched doorway, through another door and then suddenly I am standing in a small dining room. There is an oval heavy wooden table in the middle with five well-used chairs and one kid in a wheelchair placed around it. Sam is the kid, already there, staring hungrily at the food. I can relate to that.   
Suddenly a man looking like he’s in his forties strolls in the room. He is wearing glasses and his hair is grey, his face looks nothing like neither Jamie’s nor Sam’s, but his eyes are exactly the same shade of blue. A bright brilliant sky blue.  
“Oh, hey you must be the flamboyant Skye. Nice to meet you.“ He offers me his hand and I shake it ,though I am still stuck on flamboyant? What?   
“Nice to meet you too, Mr Bower” I smile, the man isn’t as tall as Jamie, but at the right angles I am starting to see the family resemblance.  
“Call me David! I don’t care much for formality, I’ve always been rocker at heart” he informs me, a kind smile on his face.   
“David it is,” I agree, giving him a small nod. We go over and place ourselves at the table. Mr Bower – David - across from me and Mrs Bower – Anne – next to her husband. Jamie and I on the other side and Sam in his wheelchair at the end of the table, near me and David. A couple minutes later Brad shuffles in and sits down at the other end of the table.   
“So how’s my lad managed to deceive a beautiful girl like you? You cannot tell me it’s all honest work!” Jamie’s father jokes, as he flings mashed potatoes on his plate.   
“Dad!” Jamie say, looking at him bashfully the only way a son can, embarrassed, indignantly and well.. Something else.   
“Now, now!” he chuckles, “I was only joking!” he had given the mashed potatoes to his wife and now sat with his hands in the air, in a gesture of surrendering, “who’d you two meet?” He starts cutting the food on his plate. It’s beef. Delicious, slightly red beef. I’m in food heaven.   
Jamie takes the word as I am currently trying to fling mashed potatoes at my plate, “On the street.”  
“On the street?” his mother echoes. I hope they don’t think me a hooker, that’s the kind of thing you pick up on the street isn’t it? Oh god.. I am doomed.   
“Arh…” Jamie makes a weird uncomfortable sound. ”She is a friend of Tristan’s sister, we met at one of Maggie’s shows.” Jamie tries to explain.  
“I thought you said you met on the street?” his mother asks. I can see Brad going slightly blue as he holds his breath trying not to break out laughing.   
“Yes, we did, that’s the first time I saw her.” Jamie is rambling, trying to get about telling his parents how we met without telling them, I –by accident (!) – sucker punched him. “But we first got to talking at the party I had for the darling bud’s EP realise.”  
“Didn’t you just say you first got to talking at Maggie’s show?” his mother – Anne – asks and I feel like face-palming myself - and Jamie. I took a sip of the wine place in front of me, than another. I feel like I’ll need it.   
“Well – yes – but – eeeeahh” Jamie stutters and then buries his face in his hand, “You tell them Skye, I’m lost. My brain feels fried.”  
All eyes turn on my and nail me to the spot. Oh, hello there everybody…  
“We- wee.. Met at a bar,” I say flatly.   
“I thought you met on the street.” his mother repeats.   
“No, I distinctly remember meeting him at a bar. I know because I saw him sulking unhappily in the corner. I drew him, because of it.”  
“That’s adorable,” Anne coos and Jamie sighs, taking a rather big gulp of the wine. “So you draw?”  
I nodded, swallowing the beef, “mmm, but it’s only a hobby, my calling has always been acting. What about you, Sam? What do you do?” he looks up at me in surprise. Spinach hanging half out of his pursed lips. He swallows quickly.  
“Me? Ah, I’ve got two broken legs and a fractured rip, I’m doing some recovering.” he says, his face dead serious.   
“aahh-dha-ahh..” I stutter  
“Sam, you dumb nutter. I don’t think that’s what Skye asked..” Jamie sighed.  
“Oh, soo like what I do when I am not in a wheelchair or in a coma?”   
“Yeah, Sam.” Jamie then goes back to stuffing his face.   
“I knew that.” Sam shot, Jamie snorted. His parents smile. ”I go to the royal Danish academy of music, I want to work with music my entire life.”  
“Royal academy? That sounds… fancy.” I comment. Royal? that’s something alright.   
“Yes, Sam is a phenomenal guitarist.” Anne coos happily and Sam flushes.  
“He’s alright.” Jamie mutters.  
“Ay!” Sam yelps and we all just laugh it off. The rest of the dinner, went… I don’t know. I have nothing to compare it to, not really, since my own family is bonkers and the other family I met – Brendon’s family – wasn’t exactly normal either.   
We talk about how Sam is going back to school in a month, how he has arranged for his girlfriend, (some Danish girl, named Freja, which Sam also informs me is the name of the goddess of love in north mythology) to come celebrate New Year’s with him. Sam blushed when he talked about her. He was absolutely smitten.   
Jamie told me the girl had visited Sam at the hospital every other day, or as much as she could, she too was a student at the music academy. Sam said she played the cello. He had a dreaming look in his eyes whenever he mentioned her. As if he was somewhere else. Come to think of it he probably was.  
We talked about Anne’s job as a manager and David’s work at Gibson guitar, all the while I firmly avoided the subject of my own family.   
Then suddenly, the dinner was over and we all got up to clear out. I help putting the dishes in the washer and scrub till everything was shining again. I am grateful. Jamie’s family didn’t have to house both me and Brad, so it was the least I could do. Carry my own weight. Brad does the same thing, and Jamie dashes around the room playing a silly game with his brother, who yelps in horror every few seconds. He’s fine though.   
We all eventually settle down in the living room, the TV running in the background, Sam is his wheelchair, David in a the big combatable looking leather arm chair, Brad seated awkwardly next to mrs Bower, Anne, in the big three man sofa and lastly Jamie and I huddled together on the two-manner. Jamie’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders, the other hand resting my thigh. Most importantly of all we all have a glass of Laphroaig, which is a smoky, single malt scotch whisky of my dreams.  
“Do you know how to taste the age of the scotch, Skye? The way you almost hum with delight, makes me think you know your whiskey.” Mr Bower says.  
“You’re right,” I smile, “I do know my whiskey. The farther back on the tongue the whiskey stings, the older it is, though that’s only a rough rule. It doesn’t always apply. But this one,” I gently place the glass under my nose, smelling its essence and then take another sip of the liquor, swirling it around in my mouth, “this one, if I am correct, must be about 18 years old.” I feel Jamie staring at me.  
“That’s impressive.” David breathes; smiling so much small crinkles is appearing at his eyes.  
“Not really. I just.. Maybe drink a little too much.” I smile weakly. My mother had taught me, the only useful thing my mother had ever taught me, was this.   
“No, no, those taste buds you have there, they’re a gift. I’ve been trying to guess the age of whiskeys for eons. I can’t ever get it right.”  
“It’s all in where it stings..” I start wanting to help, but David cuts me off.  
“Don’t bother, Skye. I am a lost cause. I won’t ever learn! I will always remain a hopeless old tosser.” he chuckles and places his own glass on the table.  
“Don’t say that!” I smile, but I don’t push it. I was trying to make a good impression, not trying to whack them over the head with my useless knowledge of golden liquids. So I let it go.   
After a while Jamie suddenly asks, “Where’s Beya? I haven’t seen her.”  
“She’s out in the shed.” Anne says, “She kept barking at Sam when he wheel around in the house, it’s drove us all insane.”  
“Isn’t she freezing out there?” Jamie said, his voice filled with horror.  
“No, no! We placed a radiator out there with her. She is fine.” Anne explains, but Jamie still seemed uneasy.  
“I think I’ll go walk with her.” he heaves himself up from the couch, and I suddenly feel frightened, by heart starts to drum faster and my palms go oddly sweaty. He is going to leave me alone in the house with his parents. Not that they weren’t nice, they were perfectly lovely, but being left alone with them isn’t exactly a dream of mine.  
“Can I join you?” I say a little too quickly, jumping up from the couch.   
“Ah?” he turns to face me, “Oh sure!” then he leads the way to the hallway, where we quickly put on our clothes. I can see the snow already starting to stick to the ground outside, the down going sun making it sparkle magnificently.   
We get out the door and shuffle through the cold weather to the shed in the backyard, “Gosh, it’s freezing.” Jamie comments. Compared to the warmth in LA it really was.   
“So what race is Baye?” I ask as he pushes a key into the lock in the shed. A dog starts to bark from inside.   
“Aaahh,” he looks up from the lock, “I don’t know actually, but she isn’t big.” Then he opens the shed-door and a small, shaggy dog runs out. Weaving in and out in between our legs, its tale tapping our shins.   
Jamie crouches down, “hey there’s my girl. Miss me?” She was wagging her tail violently making her whole body shake, she tries to slather Jamie’s face in wet doggy kisses. “Miss me did ya? No, NO Beya, argh!” The little dog had tried to crawl on top of Jamie’s head, which had resulted in him timbering over on the cold snow coved ground. The dog barked happily, and tried to get as close to Jamie as possible, handing out doggy kisses handsomely.   
“Beya! argh, no! argh.. No, off! Beya off!” the dog wasn’t obeying. I laughed at him all the while as he tried to fight off the cheerful dog. After a long fight he finally got up, panting and red-faced, snowflakes collecting in his dishevelled hair. “Bloody dog,” he mumbles as he quickly got Beya leached and then we started to head for a skeleton-like cluster of trees. They were outlined with the beautiful warm orange and pink colours of the setting sun.   
“I can’t believe you grew up out here.” I mutter, feeling the fresh air redden my cheeks.  
He huffs, “it can’t be that different from where you grew up?”  
“No, but it’s just much nicer.” No mother to tell me I should transfer to a university, no yapping wannabe upper-class ladies. No nothing. Just, the trees, Jamie, me and a very happy dog dragging a way too big branch with her.   
Jamie wraps his arm around my shoulder squeezing me to his side and kissing my hair. “I am happy you’re here.” He rumples against my hair.   
“So am I.” Our voices were quiet, as if we might wake the forest from its winter slumber.   
“My parents adore you,” Jamie says, “especially my dad, the thing about the whiskey really send him to the moon and back.”   
I nudge him with my shoulder, “shut up.” I say, but I am smiling and so is he. A lovely smile which reaches is blue eyes, a real smile.  
“How many parents have you met?” he teases, “you’re like a parent meeter extraordinaire!” he laughs at his own joke.  
“I’ve only ever met one pair actually,” I confess.  
“Oh? Whose?”  
I sigh, “Brendon Haywood’s.”  
“Ex boyfriend?” Jamie asks, I nod. “You’ve never talked about him?”  
I shake my head, “No. He is a story I’d rather forget.” Now it’s Jamie’s turn to nod and we keep walking down the dirt road.   
“Skye?” he asks breaking the eerie quiet.   
“Mmhh?”  
“What did he do?  
“Who? Brendon?” I ask.  
“Yes.” Jamie confirms.  
“I said I’d rather forget. It’s nothing.”I dismiss him, talking about Brendon is not the thing I enjoy the most.   
“I’d like to know, Skye. I want to honest with you and it should go both ways, right? You can find every detail about my love life on the internet. I can’t do that with yours.” He pleads.   
“I know..” I sigh; I didn’t talk much about Brendon ever. He was barely someone I thought about anymore, he was history. A history I’d rather forget than be reminded of but history none the less. I look up at Jamie, he is looking ahead, his eyes squinting at the setting sun, he hair has gone from blond to shinning gold, he looks beautiful, how could I ever keep a secret from a person like him? “Brendon Haywood was my first real boyfriend.” I started, “I met him when I was only 17, and for what I knew back then, it was true love.” I start chewing on my bottom lip, “he started to emerge me into drugs and alcohol, told me lies about how it would make everything better. I believed him, I had issues with my mom and school wasn’t exactly going that well either. He offered me an escape and I took it gladly. In the beginning it did work. I was a depressed teenage and whatever he gave me just made all the bad thoughts float away like leaves carried off by the stream...” I go quiet.  
“And then what?” Jamie asks quietly.   
“Then I got new demons, worse demons. My mother found out and tried to send me to catholic-school and summer camps, as soon as I turned 18 I ran away with him. We actually went to Spain, we got off the drugs both of us, life was really good for a while. But my mother had reported me missing, and the authorities quickly found me.” we keep walking along the trail, the sun bathing everything in a beautiful golden light. “They brought me back home, Brendon chose stayed in Spain. No one was looking for him and well.. He liked the warm weather and the new dark eyed harlot he had acquired...”  
“I’m sorry.” Jamie whispers.  
“Don’t be. Today I know it was for the better,” I take hold of his hand and squeeze it.  
“Then why do you hate your mother? If she brought you back home then..?” Jamie trails  
“You sure got a lot of questions.”   
Jamie shrugged, “I’ve realised that while if feel like I know you... I don’t know much about you.” he confesses, “But I want to.”  
I angle my head to the side. That is true. I look up at him, and his eyes are still urging me to go on, so I do. It all pours from me like word vomit. “My mother is a case of her own, I guess. She has always been obsessed with me making the choices she thought was right for me. You have been lucky, your parents accept you for you. My mother... She didn’t exactly do that... She might have saved me from a miserable life in Spain with a cheating boyfriend, but when you parent tries to transform you into a miniature ‘queen of England’, it’s not exactly that important anymore.”   
Jamie nods and stops, pulling my hand so I walk into his body, standing close up against him. He is looking at me through his golden eyelashes, with eyes so blue they might just melt my heart right then and there. I feel like my legs are crumbling under me, but I keep standing. He doesn’t say a word, he just lowers his head and presses him lips to mine, lightly like feathers.  
“What was that for?” I ask.   
“Nothing,” he says, but in his eyes I swear to god, something changed, I just didn’t know whether it was for the better or the worse. Jamie and I we were both on our seconded chances at this, us. After all if the world didn’t give each other second chances, we would all be single.   
Jamie wraps his arms around me and hug me to his hard chest, “I accept you, Skye.” he mumbles against my head and I wrap my arms tighter around him, words caught in my throat.   
It seems so basic, having people say they accept you for you. I know Jane and Brad accept me, but it was something else to have Jamie, admit it.   
“I-,” I begin, but I falter. Jamie raises my head under a hooked finger, his eyes searching my face. He guides his hand through my hair and kisses me again, my head going hazy. Three words get caught in my throat. Three simple, but absolutely terrifying words. The words which had destroyed our relationship once before. The words which had either been overused or no used enough.   
“You..” Jamie mutters gently.  
A high tone breaks the birds chirping around us, I frantically dig my hands into my pockets, retrieving my phone.  
“The number is blocked.” I inform him, “should I take it?” Jamie shrugs.  
I accept the call for reasons beyond my comprehension.  
“Hallo?” I greet whoever.   
“Hey, is this Skye Delaney?” says a familiar female American voice.  
“Ellen.” I more or less hiss.   
“Skye, I am calling to apologize.” Ellen declares.  
“Okay..” at the moment I think sticking to simple words might be for the better.   
“That stunt with your father, wasn’t okay-“ I cut her off right there.  
“He wasn’t ever my father.” I state, “he was my uncle, my father was a twin, that’s why he could pass as my father.”   
“Oh.. That’s.. ehm...” she coughs, there isn’t really a proper response to information like this, “I just want to tell you I am very sorry, it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable or to cause any trouble.” she apologizes.   
“Well you did.” I say.   
“All I want to say is I am very sorry and I hope that with time you’ll forgive me and my team, the man who imposed as your father told us you’d be thrilled to see him. he said you had been looking for him all your life.”  
“And you believed him?”   
“Yes, he looked like you a lot, so yes I did.” she admits, and I nod even though she can’t see me.  
“Okay. Thank you for the apology, Ellen.” I say. “I am on a holiday at the moment so I’d appreciate no further interruptions.” it might be a harsh answer, but, really, I didn’t care. Right now all I wanted was to hang up and then resume the activity of staring dreamily into Jamie’s cerulean eyes.   
“Of course. Merry Christmas, Skye.” she says.  
“Happy Christmas, Ellen.” I reply, after immediately hanging up.   
“So who...?” Jamie asks, I can feel his eyes searching my face.  
“Ellen DeGeneres, she called to apologise for what happened.”   
“That’s good... right?” Jamie asks slowly.   
“It is, I think..” I agree, “it isn’t really her fault my family is a bunch of deceiving, manipulating arseholes.” Jamie laughs and the sounds sends me back to reality, here in England, far far away from the LA madness.   
“Well...” he simply replies as he suddenly tugs me in towards him again, cupping my face and kissing me gently for a second before deepening the kiss. He groans and I sway my body against his. There are too many layers between us. A warm fuzzy feeling spreads through my whole body, despite the cold and I feel my cheeks turning ablaze.   
“Somebody is a little eager.” I mutter teasingly against his lips, caressing the skin behind his ears and his neck.   
“And you’re saying you’re not?” he questions as he kisses me and bits my lower lips, drawing a groan from me, which I didn’t know I had.  
“I love it when you makes sounds like that,” Jamie walks me up against a tree, I feel small and feminine as he towers over me, and I feel myself shiver, but not with cold, but with something else entirely. He kisses, my lips by face, my neck, making tingles shoot through my body like shooting stars. I sigh in wanton. And somewhere in the back of my head I am aware that we’re still very close to the road and if anyone walks past us it probably won’t end very well. But currently I don’t care.  
Then suddenly he breaks from my mouth, “where is Beya?” he asks. The small shuffles of dog steps has stopped, Jamie is no longer holding the leach. We hear a distant bark.   
“Fuck..” I hiss as we untangle from each other   
“BEYA!” Jamie hollers. It’s time to go dog hunting.


	29. the safety of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye

As it turned out, Beya had walked herself and had casually slandered back home, only she had forgot to tell us that. Jamie and I ran around in the forest for hours on end. The sun had gone down, the stars had started twinkling above us and our limbs were slightly blue from the cold.   
When we finally decided to drag ourselves back home, preparing ourselves to never again see Beya, we stopped dead in our tracks. On the front porch was Beya, sitting expectantly in front of the door as if saying, ‘what took you so long? Now let me in!” it was impossible to know whether she had been sitting there for an hour or 2 minutes.   
Jamie let out a short breath, obviously relieved. “Beya!” he exclaimed as he ran towards the dog who instantly started wagging its tail. I followed him petting the dog on its head and saying hallo, while internally repeating ‘you’re a little arsehole, aren’t ya? Aren’t ya?,’ in a squeaking baby voice. She could have gotten off her doggy behind and gone to get us! I think it might be my frozen feet talking.   
We got in and Jamie’s mother instantly cocooned us in blankets and pillows, we were both rather blue. Being the best woman on earth she also brought us hot chocolate and said she had been worried sick. Soon both Jamie and I had gone from popsicles to barge poles. Jamie’s cheeks glowed red and his hair stuck up in tuffs around his face, I had a feeling I looked rather similar.   
Then we all gathered around the living room table to a light dinner, since we had had warm lunch. We all devoured our sandwiches hungrily. After that I my body got really, really heavy. I was warm, hat hot chocolate in my tummy and I had been fed. Now I was the sleepiest person on the planet. Everything went blurry, someone giggled and then suddenly, I had gone out like a light.   
When I wake again, the world is upside down, I am no longer in the living room, with my head slumped on Jamie’s shoulder. I am lying on my stomach, my limbs comfortably outstretched with the smell of pure Jamie all around me. I inhale deeply, when did he smell so fantastic? The world was a deep blue colour; it was probably in the middle of the night.   
I shuffle around a bit, turning to my side where I discover a sleeping Jamie, His jaw slightly slag, his eyes twitching, his breath steady and deep. I haul myself up and kiss his cheek, unable to resist the temptation. I lay back down on the crook of his shoulder aligning my body with his. I suddenly find I don’t have a stitch on my body. He must have undressed me, and himself it seems. I find he is only wearing a pair of grey boxers.   
His body has changed a lot since I first met him, his thing figure and become woven with muscle, which rippled every time he moved. His arms had become bigger, along with chest, hard muscle covered every inch of his six feet tall body. I trailed the lines of his abdominal muscles absentmindedly.  
“That tickles.” I raise my eyebrows and look up at him, his head is slightly lifted, his eyes locked on my hand.  
“You’re awake,” I mutter, “sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”   
“Don’t be sorry,” he smile devilishly, “I’m glad you did.” he lift his head and place a firm kiss on my lips, his hand already wandering. he palm m breast the nipple instantly going hard, he flicks it and I make a throaty sound against his lips, he returns the sound.   
Tension ripples through my body at the expectantly of the upcoming pleasure. I shift my body around and climb on top of Jamie, straddling his bare chest, his length already poking my behind.   
His long muscled arms wraps around my bare form, pulling me to him, he latches onto my throat, kissing and nibbling the skin. His hands altering between gliding up and down my back, and taking a firm hold of my arse, pulling my body closer to his. An electric fire shoots from everywhere he is touching me, making my breath catch and come out in shaky breaths.   
“God, you’re amazing.” Jamie mumbles against my skin and I quickly find his mouth and press my lips to mine, trying to let him know the feeling is more that reciprocated. As I let go of his lips and sit down on him, his half lidded eyes are watching me, desire and adoration shining from them. I shuffle down, hooking his boxers with my finger and pulling them down ever so slightly, letting the tip of his hardness poke out. I place my hand on it, feeling the soft hardness through the fabric. I hear Jamie growl.  
Then I move to the side and pull down his boxers all the way, letting his length spring free. I don’t waste my time, sit up straddling his legs, then I bow down and take him in my mouth. Under me I feel Jamie’s whole body tense, and a guttural moan escapes his wet lips. I engulf all of him, sucking and licking him till I can feel his hips buckle under me.  
“Skye..” he growls, “Skye, you need to stop. I’m gonna..” he breathes hard, and I let go of Jamie Jr. with an audible pop. Jamie instantly sits up and kisses me, not taking a second to think or care about the fact that my mouth is cover in his juices.   
He flips us around his mouth still on mine, his hips settled between my legs. I wrap them around him. “Your turn.” he mumbles as he kisses down my neck his one hand on my breast, the other on the bed holding up his weight. He trails a path down my neck to my breast where he latches on and sucks, making shivers go up my spine. He moves down my stomach kissing his way down and then he settles between my legs, heaving my legs up around his shoulders, my woman hood glistening and bared before him.   
He blows air on it and the cold sensations make my toes curl in pure anticipation. I close my eyes disappearing into my body, letting the pleasure consume me. I feel his tongue slide gently up and down my slit, slowly opening me up. Every time his tongue passes my clit my hips jerk involuntarily and my breath hitch, I grasp the sheets under me.  
“Please J.” I mutter, “pleas-“he suddenly opens my folds and latches onto my clit, forcing my back slightly off the bed. Slowly he starts guiding a long finger into me, curling it slightly against me wall. He works excruciatingly slow, making my whole body buckle and my toes curl at each stroke. He adds another finger, and I moan. He picks up speed sliding his slick, talented fingers in and out of me, while his tongue worked its magic. My hands lock in his blond her, urging him on. I bite my lips, trying to hold back the moans, I fail miserably.   
“Jamie I need you.” I breath in wanton, “I need you.” he doesn’t stop and get up as I expected him to, he picks up even more speed, his hand stroking over my g spot over and over from the inside, while at the same time his mouth have started humming and licking over it from the outside. It makes my body spasm and buckle, he manage to pin me down and keeps going and going and going. Guttural moans coming from me until it’s all released in a spectacular deafening explosion of pleasure. My whole body tense, Jamie settles his fingers deep inside me, my walls clench around them.   
Before my whole body goes slag again, the wave of pleasure passing over me in smaller and smaller currents.   
Jamie comes up again, settling between my still tingling folds, not yet entering. The day after having gotten with Jamie I had gone on the pill again, no unexpected baby for me thank you very much.  
“Are you okay?” he asks sweetly kissing my face.  
“I’m fine, fantastic actually.” I capture his lips and bite his bottom lip.   
“Are you still up for it?” he mumbles, rocking his hips so his length slides up and down in slit. I sigh; the tingles shoot through my body. I stead of answering with words, I reach down between us, grapping his manhood and aligning it with entrance. he slowly pushes in, stretching out my walls, settling deep inside me.   
“Fuck.” he growls.  
“Yes..” I sigh.  
He almost pulls all the way back out, as he lifts my leg and slams back into me again, my head is hazy with lust, my body humming with spinning out of control with pleasure.   
Graduately he starts to build speed, spread strings out of Jamie forehead and he starts to pant. I pull him to me squeezing his behind and kissing his open-mouthed. I push him out and off me before I turning on all fours. My back swayed, arse in the air. I feel both Jamie’s stroke over my arse and grasp my hips. Then suddenly he is there again pushing in. my arms turn to led under me and I let my upper body slump down onto the bed. Sweet Christ of baby Jesus, fuck, that feels good.   
He starts out in hard slow strokes, but he quickly builds speed. I meet his thrusts with one of my own. I start mumbling his name over and over again, “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.” like some plead or sigh, begging for realise.   
He heaves me up our bodies still connects, my back to his chest standing up. His hand travels around and down to my clit where he starts his ministrations while his lips kiss my neck. I turn my head and we engage in a sloppy kiss. Everything is wet and hot and erotic. The sound of his length sliding in and out of me, or strangled mixed moans.   
I feel the tension build in my lower regions again, making everything turn haze and fuzzy again.  
“Skye, fuck,” Jamie growls, obviously close to the edge. I want to leap over it with him.  
I release myself from his grip and push him onto his back. I instantly sit down in his length with a sigh. I start riding him hard, he grasps my hips and my arse helping me along, my fingers travel to my throbbing clit and start messaging as Jamie sits up and take my nipple in his mouth. we stay locked like this for only a couple seconds before for wave come crashing over both of us. Pleasure ripples through me and Jamie growls loudly, coming inside me.   
We slump back down, still connected, everything in our bodies pulsing. Jamie’s hands are running up and down my back gently, his eyes are closed. I kiss him again and he kisses me back, rocking his softening manhood into me ever so softly. I giggle and he pulls out with a smile. We kiss for a long while.  
“Skye, I...” but he trails off again, and simply kisses me again, “Nothing,” he says. Though I have a pretty damn good idea of what he was about to say. I also understand why he didn’t. He wants me to admit it first this time, before he can let himself utter those three miraculous words again. But I don’t know what love is, if I really feel it or not. All I know is that I am the happiest I have ever been and maybe, just maybe that’s what it means to love someone. That their presence makes you absolutely ecstatic and their touch wakes your whole entire body.   
I lay down on his chest not bothering to get up and clean myself up, the world feels all pink and fuzzy right now and I don’t want to shatter it all by getting up. He hugs me tightly to his chest. After a while his breathing becomes even and his body goes limp. I look up and it seems as if he’s sound asleep.   
“I love you too, Jamie” I whisper, before following him into the land of dreams. But before I do I feel his arms wrap a little tighter around me.


	30. The spirit of Christmas

Skye 

The next morning the insides of my thighs are very sticky, due to Jamie’s and I late night activities. I waddle out into the bathroom to clean myself up before people start to rise. When I come back, I barely got in the door again before I am pinned against the wall, Jamie’s mouth pressed hungrily on mine. The towel in which I have around my torso, fall to the ground immediately and I can feel Jamie’s length already press against me. He too doesn’t have a thread on his lean form.   
“Good morning there;” I smile and take hold of his length feeling him up and down. A deep growl escapes Jamie and he kisses me hard again.   
“Good morning, love.” he mutters and a warm feeling spreads through my whole body. Had he heard? I feel my cheeks flush.   
“Your parents. When will they be up?” I mutter against his lips. Jamie doesn’t exactly answer; he simply reaches in between my folds and presses a long firm finger into the wetness. My body starts to hum with pleasure and I sigh. Fuck his parents.   
“There we go.”Jamie mutters as I start pressing down onto his hands, trying to make his fingers move; I am still dimly aware that I have a hand on Jamie’s rock hard length. Jamie pulls his fingers out of me, they’re wet and sticky. Oh sweet baby Jesus. Tentatively he put his fingers in his mouth one after one, sucking my juices of them. The sight makes my jaw go slack and my breathing become superficial. Oh gosh...  
Then he leans forwards and takes careful hold of my face before kissing me. My head go fuzzy. He starts kissing my neck and his hands cup my breasts, his fingers rolling my nipples and making them pucker. He presses himself against me, his hard length bumping into my lower stomach. And soon I can’t take it anymore. I need him inside of me.  
“Jamie,” I run my hands through his messy morning hair, “please, just fuck me already.” He smiles and hunches down a little, hoisting up my legs. Then suddenly he is there, slowly sliding his way in. Filling my slowly. I moan and Jamie growl, my whole body already shaking with pleasure, as he hits something deep inside of me. An unexpected whimper escapes my lips.   
He took me hard against the wall, slamming hard into me over and over again. We kiss and bite and pull in each other, everything a haze of lust. The pleasure makes me legs go numb, as I feel the familiar build inside of me, begging to be realised.   
“Fuck, mmh, harder, Jamie, oh god,” I urged him, trying to meet each of his thrusts with one of my own. He smelled of sex and sweat and Jamie, the odour smothering my senses.   
“Skye, my god. you’re so fucking gorgeous” Jamie half growled, half muttered, and before I knew it the wave broke washing in over me, I started to scream as I came. I bit down on Jamie shoulder, as he slams into me, prolonging my euphoria even further.   
With a throaty growl he settles deep and fully inside of me, coming. His half-lidded eyes watch my as he did, jep he had heard it alright. I pull his face to mine and kissed him with all I had. I might have no idea what feeling love was supposed to convey but that didn’t mean I didn’t know I love Jamie. That makes absolutely no sense, I realise.   
“Skye?” Jamie mutters as he realises me from his grip, settling me legs to the floor carefully.  
Mmmh?” I stumble a little as the blood runs to my legs again, and Jamie takes my arm, keeping me up right.  
He looks at me for a long second, a battle obvious in his eyes.  
“What is it, J?” I mutter, caressing his cheek. I feel so close to him, how come we always turned out naked when we there needed to be talked about thing. It beats me..  
He shakes his head, “Forget it, it’s nothing.” My heart falls, did he hear it and realise he doesn’t feel the same way anymore.   
“No Jamie, not again. What is it?” it was a little odd really, we had just had a heated batch of sex against the wall and now this. We’re a mess. A hot mess, but still a god damn mess. “Jamie..” I began again, but he breaks me off.  
“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, his eyes unclouded. Every doubt that he might not had heard it vanishes. I can see the need and want in his eyes, the vigour in which he needs it to be true and not some cruel game of mine.   
I avert my eyes to the ground and nod. “I meant it.”  
Silence.   
My heart is hammering rapidly in my chest, as if trying to escape the cage of my ribs.   
“I love you.” I mutter as if to confirm his believes. I look up, a scared of what I might find. My heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. I am very much aware of my nakedness.  
The smile on his face goes from ear to ear, lighting up his blue eyes. I feel a ball drop in my chest. A surprised smile stretch across my face.   
“You love me?” he repeats in disbelief. I bite my lip.  
I nod again, “I love you.”My voice is a whisper. He takes a step closer, pressing his warm body against mine, and kisses me. the kiss, makes my knees weaken and my insides do loops.   
“I love you too. So fucking much.” His voice is strained with emotion and his blue eyes are slightly glassy. I wrap my hands in his hair and kiss him, his soft mouth moving expertly over mine.   
“I am so sorry.” I whisper, “I didn’t realize it before… I just.. I was just soo fucking stupid…” if not to mention scared of my wits, I still am. I am just more scared of losing him, since I know exactly how that feels. it’s not a specially jolly feeling. For whatever reason I can feel tears stinging my eyes, threatening to cascade down my cheeks.   
“I’m sorry too.” he mutters and I reach for him again, pulling his naked form to mine and kiss him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. I wish we could stay like this forever, entangled in each other’s arms. Naked and hot. Revelling in lightheaded goofy, love-dovey emotions. I’d like an eternity of that thank you very much.   
“I love you,” he repeats again, as if the words might take him to the gates of heaven. The words, for the first time doesn’t scare me, or makes me want to shut him up with kisses. They make my stomach flutter with butterflies and a rosy flush creep into my cheeks.   
“I love you too.” I echo and we both smile like we have just won the lottery, which I suppose we have. Only small 3 months ago I would have never guessed this. Me and Jamie. It feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in just 3 small months. I could die right now and feel as if my time here on earth had been pretty well spent. But I have never felt more alive. He sets my heart and soul on fire, leaving me raw to him. And I trust him. I trust him to not hurt me again, and he trusts me with exactly the same thing; his heart, his love, his home.   
We repeat those three little words, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ to each other all morning, reaching for each other, holding and kissing each other, staring blindly into each other’s eyes as if there is nothing else more beautiful in the world.   
I realize this is all rather cheesy, but I gather, that’s how it feels to love someone. At least I hope it is. 

24 of December  
“Jamie? What did you buy me?” Sam asks, “It have to be something good, I was in a coma.” Sam is rolling around in his wheelchair trying more or less to treat the chair like a skateboard. The guy is probably heading for the ER in a matter of hours. Possibly minutes.  
“What about a year's supply of toilet paper?” Jamie jokes, “you need something to wipe up all your shit after all.  
“AAAAYY!” Sam bellows, trying to hit Jamie over the head, but he dodges Sam’s hand by falling on top of me in the sofa, where we’re sitting. He pushes Sam’s chair with his foot and the chair rolls away. Sam growls in annoyance.”Stupid chair.”  
We have just eaten Christmas dinner, homemade dreamily, delicious dinner. My stomach still feels inflated, even though it’s a whole our since we ate.   
The house is stocked with all over Jamie’s relatives. Small children running around the house spreading the holiday cheer in the shape and sound of shrill Christmas carols. One of Jamie’s older cousins, Emma, sits next to us, her eyes firmly trained on her phone. Jamie’s other cousin, Henry - he is one year older than me or something - run around after the kids, playing tag. The children shriek in horror as soon as the tall blond man sneaks around a corner. I have no idea how many children there is and yes I’ve tried to count.  
Brad is sitting in a rocking chair wiggling a rattle in front of some toddler. It grabs the colourful thing and stuffs it in his mouth. Brad kisses the baby’s head, and looks up to see me looking. He mouths the words, ‘so cute!’ at me. And I have to agree the child is adorable.  
For whatever reason, my mind flashes to a picture of Jamie, sitting holding a similar child on his lap. The picture unintentionally makes me smile. Someday.. Maybe… I promise myself. Then I shake myself a little, don’t be ridicules, Scarlett! But I just can’t stop smiling at the mental image.   
Jamie lies down, his head in my lap, his legs dangling over the edge of the sofa. I can’t help but bow down and place a kiss on his lips.  
“I love you.” I mutter.  
“I love you too,” He echoes. This has been going on for couple days, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. I kiss him again and his hand goes to my hair. It’s a sweet kiss, a tender kiss. It isn’t lustful and filled with uncontrollable need, it sweet and caring. The kind of kiss, that is acceptable in public.   
But that doesn’t change the fact that one of the many children sees us and instantly goes, “EEEWWW!” as he or she sprints away, causing both Jamie and I to laugh.   
For the second time during my stay here my phone starts ringing. i look over at the coffee table where I placed it just a little while ago  
‘Mother’ the screen declares.  
I sigh, “Jamie, I need to take that, can I get up?” I ask. He peers over at the phone placed on the table, noticing the caller.   
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, getting up. I nod ever so slightly, grasp the phone and then head out into the hall. There isn’t any people here, just a fuck ton of coats.   
I accept the call, “Happy Christmas mother.” I greet. I don’t exactly sound cheerful to my own ears, but it’s the best I can do.   
“Happy Christmas, Scarlett.” My mother replies, it’s strange to hear her voice again. after so much time  
“So why the sudden call?” I ask, maybe just a tad too harshly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She remains oblivious to the needs of other people. Especially her own daughter.   
“Can’t a mother call her own daughter Christmas Eve?” she asks a sharp taint to her voice.  
I scoff, “Sure, she can.”   
“Don’t pull that tone with me, Scarlett!” she immediately scolds.  
“Or what?” I feel myself snap, “You’re not here. I haven’t heard from you in a full year. ”   
“And whose fault is that, Scarlett?” she hisses, “I’ve tried to contact you! I’ve tried to get in touch. I can’t say the same thing about you.”   
“So that’s what you call it?” I make some odd gag-like sound, “telling, no ordering me to return home and go to uni, isn’t trying to get in touch, mother! It’s sorry excuse for it anyway”  
“You should go to uni!” she shots, “you’re kidding if you think you can actually make it as an actress.” she obscures the last word, letting it out as if it’s a curse in itself.   
I straight out laugh, “Sorry to inform you I already made it. I already have a fucking job. in LA. at a huge company, which means I make more that you have ever made in your pitiful life. So get of my fucking back and leave alone.”  
She remains quit, for a while before mumbling; “you’re telling the truth?” Her tone is sceptical yet surprised.  
“Yeah, you’re constant encouragements really helped me.” my tone is dripping, no it’s fucking soaked with sarcasm.   
“I didn’t know.” She let out.  
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you? It’s not like you act like my mother anyway.” I know I sound like an indignant child, but there’s a pretty big possibility that that’s exactly what I am. So who am I to blame?  
“You could have told me.” She simply replies, but her voice is oddly strained.  
I huff.  
“You could have told me, Scarlett.” she repeats. Now she sounds as if I’m the one who have done something wrong.  
“I didn’t exactly feel like it.” I hiss, “You didn’t deserve to know.”  
She is silent for a long, long while.  
“Are we done here?” I ask.  
“Scarlett, I’m sorry.” she suddenly blurts out.¨  
“What?” I hiss in disbelief.   
“I’m sorry, Scarlett. I should have believed in you.” she talks so fast I barely catch her words.   
“Yeah, you should.”  
She stays silent.  
“Oh,” I say, “and for the record, I have a boyfriend. His name is James Bower.” Using his ‘real name’ seems more useful. There’s a certain authority in the name James.   
“You do?” she asks in surprise. I can’t help but revel in her helpless, stunned voice.  
“Yes.” I say, “And I love him very much.”  
“Can I meet him?” she asks.   
I swallow, “Maybe.”   
“Scarlett I didn’t know,-“ I cut her off.  
“You didn’t know I actually made it?” I imagine her nodding, “It’s too bad.”  
“Scarlett, I called to ask you if you’d..” she coughs, “ come visit me? Bring your man with you. I’d love to meet him.” she sounds so sincere it almost takes my breath away.   
“He is not like Brendon. You don’t need to save me. You don’t need to turn me into a mini lady if that’s what you think.” I hiss.   
“I just want to meet the person worthy of my daughters affection.” argh.. bloody hell... She makes me sound like an arse. Fuck her.  
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” I snap.   
“I’d like to be apart of your life again, Scarlett.” she says, “however miniscule that part might be.” That is not fair! she can’t say stuff like that to me! she can’t suddenly act like my mother! After years of neglect she can’t suddenly act as if she cares! that’s not fair! it’s not fair!   
I clench my jaw, “I’ll think about it.” I repeat.   
“Okay.” she whispers, “you’re welcome to come to dinner somewhere between Christmas and new years. I understand if you want to spend the holidays with.. others.” she informs me ever so kindly. it makes my gut clench and I want to yell at her, but I refrain. I won’t have my Christmas fucked up because of this. I want let myself hope what she is saying is actually true. That I might actually have a fleck of a mother left. That I might be like everybody else. But I SO want to...  
“I’ll let you know if we come.” I reply, trying ti hide my inner commotion.   
“Okay.” I hear some shuffling around through the phone, “happy Christmas, Scarlett. I hope to see you sometime soon.”   
“Happy Christmas Mother.” I reply. then I hang up. I take a deep and highly needed breath. Trying to calm myself down. I stand there for a while, my eyes closed as I try to think of nothing.   
“Everything okay?” Jamie wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my cheek. I let myself lean into the comfort of his embrace.   
“Everything is fine.” I smile, “mother, she..” I shake my head, “she just seemed different. She said she asked if we would come visit sometime before new-year. She said she’d love to meet you.”   
“Do you want me to meet her?” he asks, letting go so I can turn around to face him.  
“I don’t know.” I run my hand through my hair, “maybe.”  
“I’ll meet or not meet your mother, it’s all up to you.” he says in a sweet voice as he embrace me again, giving me a butterfly kiss. It’s like we’re like magnets unable to be pulled apart.   
“There you guys are!” Sam is sitting in his wheelchair, slightly hunched forward, “they’re opening the presents now! Come on!” With that he rolls away, leaving us to follow.   
I take a step back, grasp Jamie’s hand and start toward the living room door, “Come on. We better join them.” I start pulling him toward the door, but suddenly find myself pulled back into his embrace.  
“Wait a second I have something for you.” he mutters. I stare at him.  
“I thought we agreed on no presents?!” I ask scared, I hadn’t bought him anything. I hadn’t had the time to, between shooting and pissing people of there hadn’t really been much time. That reminds me, I’ll have to make amends with Ellen when I get back to LA.   
“Don’t worry. It’s something else. Something I already had.” he says, he is holding his hands in front on him fidgeting.   
“Okay..?”   
He reaches forward and takes my hand, turning the palm upward. I feel something hard, the size of a small stone fall into my palm.  
I look up at him, as if seeking permission to look, he nods toward my hand.  
“Well, look, for god’s sake.” he smiles a cute cheeky smile.  
Carefully I open my palm and find a hard piece of iron in it. A ring to be more exact. A Morgenstern ring, the original one from the movie. He has worn this one for years; it’s as much a part of him, as it is his character.   
“What’s this for?” I ask in wonder.   
“You obviously.”  
“But it’s yours!” I exclaim, “I can’t take this.” I hand it back to him immediately. He takes my hand curling my fingers around the ring.   
“I want you to have it,” he mumbles, “as a promise.” I raise my eyebrow in confusion, “that you will always want me and I’ll always want you. No matter what happens.” he mumbles suddenly looking down. “I know it’s stupid. It just thought...” he shakes his head, a careful smile lingering on his lips. “I just want to make sure you know how much I love you and I thought... no it’s stupid..”  
“What?” I ask suddenly feeling curious, “what did you think?”  
he sighs, “In the books , giving the family ring is the highest sign of love and trust and well I thought this, me giving you this, could be a little like that..” he trails off. “I know it’s silly... we’re not our character-“  
“It’s sweet, Jamie,” I smile take a step closer and go on my toes to kiss him. It was a cheesy thought, giving me a ring, especially this ring. But the thought behind it was so sweet; it couldn’t help but melt my heart. “I’ll love you; I’ll choose you from this day and every day forward.”  
As soon as the words leave my mouth I realise something. Love is not a feeling. Feelings fade, change, respond to situations and events. Love is a choice. And I choose to love Jamie with the whole of my being, always and forever.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that is it! I'm going to rewrite this story in a new book called "under your skin." Adding things and replacing stuff I now find utterly ridiculous. hopefully it will be more realistic. It will be up once I've rewritten the first 15 chapters at least, so it will be a while I am on chapter 5 as it is.


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